A Dream Deferred

by Langston Hughes

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?

Prof. P was our teacher in English/American Literature in college. She is a kindly woman whom I'll never forget. Partly because I got 1.0 in her class but more particularly because she introduced us to this poem.

So what happens to a dream deferred and what has that got to do with me? Please bear with me on this litany.

I used to be a grape. I had dreams when I was young and clung to my vine-- Was I to be plucked to become wine? Be on someone's lips and intoxicate as one celebrates? Or was I to be picked fresh and bask along with other fresh produce in a bowl filled with merry colors? I was none of these.

I was ripped from that vine and was left in the Sun. It was a painful, almost despicable circumstance. But then, I fell inlove with him! From the moment his radiance enveloped me, I felt heavenly! From the darkness of my abode, I found light – he-- the Sun! He was warm, delightful, radiant, and powerful.. Finally, I told myself, in his company, I could shun darkness for all eternity!

So there in the glory of the sunlight I remained -- until, I was forgotten.

Hence, this is what I have become -- a Burnt Raisin forgotten by her Sun.