Marvana // Sketches for a Future

Her dream scribbles have always been about returning to that past partnering, forgetting how toxic.
                                     Failures always have their way of creating false mirrors: you are the one to whom the breakage is faulted. You fault for the cracks.

Luckily, some women have the gracious benefit of another’s hands to show them they themselves can plant their legs in soil
and wait.                   Stow                   away those burdens, tend wounds.

                                     Some women will get merciful preambles to a foliage filled future that could be.

How not?
Does not blooming now mean never?
Blooming is always yours.

“what is yours can never be truncated but delayed”—

This is time being faithful to the gift that it is.

Some girls get the lesson early.             But i’m sorry to say i’ve learnt a bitter thesis that things can get truncated; i’m sorry to all the women who by the nature of nature
wilt so.

Her dreams were populated with objects promising more than that statis of socialized desires—

the daughter’s pink chair
the second son’s blue floater
that black water rubber drum keeping water when there was no rain.           But people always need the world to write to them when they can’t.

Marvana // Sketches for a Future

I write these things, over and over, as an attempt to give women robbed of bloom
some feather and a song
some salve. Noble, and I quickly want to say that these are always failures.

This is a kind of failure that is worth the tears in the mirror.
Yet, I’ll ground the failures:

“In the future, you are basking in the sun by the seaside, rainbowed ferns grow mysteriously from beach sand; you are well watered, and there is no fear”