Reflection:
Dreams are not distractions. They are seeds. When the world feels too heavy, I dream of what could be, and through writing, I plant those dreams in the minds of others.
Poem:
I dream about things that shouldn’t make sense.
Like children running through fields of fire—and not being burned.
Like passports that don’t decide worth.
Like justice that doesn’t sleep in the dark.
I dream of poetry being taught alongside math.
Of doves who know their names.
I dream of a world that still believes in healing—
not perfect, not polished—
but becoming.
Always becoming.
