A Poet I Dreamt to Be
A poem revealing a dream set aside to do the 'more practical', and how, at the time, I never imagined my poetry would widely be seen—until I died.
Hello all and sundry,
Here is an early poem written at the beginning of my college years. I was studying for a B.S. in Secondary Education; the practical degree not only my parents encouraged, but I saw as having the least risk for ‘failing’ in life. Having a mother whose jobs were cemented in hard, labored work as being the means to survive, and a step-father who rejected the practical way of his own teaching degree to exchange it for a career in journalism and photography, I compromised my life’s plans by believing I would still be centered in writing, even if it was only to treat it as a hobby. I still wrote; I stuffed the penned pages in folders and binders and desk drawers and places I’ve forgotten. They have often cried to be let out— before I died. So, since I’m still breathing…and, I am listening to their needs, I have opened the drawers and doors to release them. May they find a place with you, within you, to be all they were meant to be.
Many Blessings and MUCH LOVE,
W-Gray
A Poet I Dreamt to Be
Someday I'll die and in a drawer You'll find A colorfully decorated folder With poetry of mine. I titled it Myself Just so you would know The 'stuff' you'll find within it Is all MY soul. It contains poetry written During days in Dillon; A time when life was changin' And words from my soul were spillin'. Some poems, you may understand, And some you may not. Things you may remember about me, Things you may have forgot. None-the-less, you will see, That a student, then teacher, I was. But, A POET I dreamt to be. W-Gray, 1994