Dreams deferred

Langston Hughes’ poem Harlem reaches across race and time to touch anyone with dreams that have been denied.

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore—
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over—
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

~ Langston Hughes, Harlem

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