A Dream Deferred . . .

Harlem 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?…

Courage

Every now and then our own words come back to haunt us (sometimes in a good way.) This week I embarked on a new entrepreneurial adventure. I launched Ask Tracie Jae – a research assistance company. This morning, I found a poem that I wrote in July, 2009. Courage I’ve been told, It’s not what we do…