Have you ever stopped yourself
when thinking of your present life and
wishing for a better tomorrow?
Then realized tomorrow is elusive.
Indefinable like an illusion,
as tomorrow is always close
but too far to reach,
yet with patience tomorrow always becomes today.
Tomorrow, the savior of yesterday’s guilty misdeeds
and cradle of our hopes and dreams,
is vindicated by the Holy One who spreads the coldness of warm dirt
over our tomorrows to comfort beleaguered hearts.
All those yesterdays that depleted our strength
with the daily tedium of everyday chores
tolerating the many crosses one must bear
amid the many prayers inculcated with hopeful expectations,
those dastardly tomorrows that consumed our waking hours,
where are they now?
Mostly forgotten, as children forget old discarded toys,
but we cling to other embedded memories
that sit and fester like malignant sores.
Someday, our tomorrows will be used up
and all pain and queries will dissolve
into the abyss of nothingness,
and we will experience a new narrative
that at that time of final repose, we will rejoice
and kick our heels and sing the old Negro spiritual
free at last, free at last, good God almighty, we're free at last!
(last two lines borrowed from Dr. Martin Luther King's I Have a Dream speech)
Copyright © norberto franco cisneros | Year Posted 2017
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