I wonder if I am not me but a version of a girl
crowning herself with a clay bucket,
walking one-hundred miles under the sun
while I wait,
for a chance to be thirsty.
It is I who cross my legs,
who draw in the bees with my honey walk.
If mine is the scent of womanhood then tell me,
what is it she wears on every fold of her body
when she bears children, and when her children
Perhaps I am a euphemism of woman,
daughter, writer. Somewhere I should be
being born with heavier shoulders and
a thicker spine,
reigning over long dirt roads and
at night telling stories of white men who
came and left uninvited.
Mariana Kovalik Silva is an eighteen-year-old poet born and raised in Curitiba, Brazil. Although her first language is Portuguese, she became fluent in English at age fourteen, and has been writing in English ever since. Mariana writes about finding her voice amidst mental health struggles, and being the first in her family to travel and live abroad. She hopes to use her writing to inspire others on their healing journeys.