Dreams Die Because We Compete So Let’s End This Cycle Of Bleakness

BY LALITA SIMON-CREASEY

Somewhere there is a petite little girl of eight
She seems to be resigning herself to her fate,
Of being taught by her parents to compete
It is the only way she will not suffer defeat.

Somewhere there is a special boy of nine
He feels he must stamp the word “mine”,
On everything that he would like
Lest somebody take it away from the tyke.

Somewhere there is a handsome child of ten
Who feels he must achieve and be better than,
Because over and over again his parents say,
This is the only path that will make your way.

Somewhere there is a forlorn eleven-year-old
Who will keep listening to “do as you are told”,
And within that special space in this little body
A spirit is diminishing because of what it hears daily.

Somewhere there are adults who used to be
The eight, nine, ten, and eleven year old you see,
And someday they too become parents
Sharing this age-old advice and guidance.

Somewhere there is a mighty voice crying
“Oh, my children tell me that you are trying,
To teach the young to have courage and grace
Without telling them that it is all a wicked race.”

Somewhere out there dreams die a death every day
Because we are too scared to hope and pray,
We think that what we want will never come to us
And so we keep perpetuating a cycle of bleakness.

Somewhere out there a child prepares for school
Telling himself that everyone else is a fool,
He will do whatever it takes to get where he needs,
This is what he has learned so well and what he feeds.

Somewhere out there lies a world waiting discovery
One built on grace, trust, faith, hope, and so much beauty.
But until we see through the unity of billions of eyes,
The sound we will keep hearing every day will be sighs.

For more self-study, The Urban Howl recommends 52 Ways to Live a Kick-Ass Life: BS-Free Wisdom to Ignite Your Inner Badass and Live the Life You Deserve.

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