Last night was such fun -- Michael and I went down to Cleveland Playhouse Square to coach and nurture young poetry slammers who will be competing in the city-side competition to choose the 5 lucky poets who will be part of the team that is sent to the National competition in NYC in April. So many words, so many dreams brought to the stage. In total deviance of their right to privacy, the teen poets laid out their views on everything from thugs to school levys and loneliness. I want them all to win the slam, but even if they don't each has achieved a personal victory I would have shied away from at their age. I was so impressed.
Afterwards I watched the opening ceremonies for the Olympics. It was grand. The best part was watching the countries who had one, two or three athletes come striding into the stadium. Knowing that many of the teams come without the endorsement of McDonald's or Nike, that they have scrimped and begged to get there, you could see victory in their eyes.
Langston made us all look at where dreams go to die, but where do they get born? What makes some push hard for their dreams and others shy away?