Barely Did Barely Will

By Prosari Chanda

Tired of fiction!

I linger with what I know,

things I do, 

the quiet thrum of things that give me power.

As a grown-up girl—

what scripts my worth?

Does testing always stitch up the wounds of past

or does waiting heal from getting weary

of being tested again?

Who decides on all that drama 

of learning to settle well?

Why hold the ropes for someone

who is never meant to be bound?

I have trained my heart 

to bleed and clean

to stand unthanked

to taste the not-so-pleasant…

while hearth fires hum,

and glowworms prove each night

that fiction does not underline the statements.

It barely did.

It barely will.

By Prosari Chanda