The dream is not dead.
The girl’s dream is in a train station
Where the train stops
And people are coming down.
The girl raises her voice to her mother and shouts “I have a dream”
The mother with worries and a tiring job
With various disappointments and empty feelings
She remembers about her, about her dream
She wants to tell her, yes, but she can’t
She just stays silent.
The girl raises her voice to her father and shouts “I have a dream”
Father molded by the necessity
To adapt to the times
To put food on the table, to have money to pay his debts
He wants to tell her, yes, but he can’t
He just says, life is hard, no more dreaming.
The dream is not dead
Not at 10, not at 20
Not at 50, not at 70 years old.
The girl raises her voice to life and shouts “I have a dream”
The years go by, the girl becomes a woman
The train station has closed
Surrounded with barbed wire
Broken windows with wooden boards
Thistles like walls
Padlock on the door
The train doesn’t stop
People don’t come down anymore
Only the woman, tries to remember
The lost dream, like a forgotten password.
The dream is not dead
Not at 10, not at 20
Not at 50, not at 70 years old
Not on the deathbed.
The woman raises her voice to the sky and shouts “I have a dream”
She triggers the alarm signal and gets off the train
She pulls up the thistles with her bare hands
Throws the barbed wire
Breaks the window boards and kicks the padlock off the door
Opens the train station
With her last breath.
The dream is not dead
Not at 10, not at 20
Not at 50, not at 70 years old
Not on the deathbed
Not at the morgue.
Where the body lies.
