Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

To my failures, those recent and those over a decade ago, those big and small, all of you bold yet with no hope, know that you are my delight, my highest degree of satisfaction, my pleasure, to all the ways you make me feel content, to all the struggles and joy you bring, to all of you who are really my own, failures birth in love, to those first moments of bliss, those we waited and hoped underneath the brightest moonlight that the time for choosing our own path would indeed begin the journey to paths of our own path, to ideas birthed in love, sorrow, but love, to all of you many will never ever see, those that hung around and let me dream, of beading jewelry and changing lives one bead at a time, to those ideas we called wise though the world thought they were foolish, to marketplaces, subtle spaces, holy places, and daring phases that placed hope and dreams on a pedastal, to each and everyone of you who took a turn to teach me how to fail, how to dream, but master failure, to those failures that remain, plans for how to last and dream still, whether for access or to see us rise, to all the ways we teach ourselves how to reach ourselves, to the ones yet unborn, those lurking underneath scarves full of dreams and keys to healing, to anything else that made the lessons of failure sublime, prime, divine, to those moments that led me here, each of you in turn who remind me always to dream, to all of you, I say thank you for being my heart’s delight, the failures in whom my whole being is well pleased with, my delight is in you, my will too, in you.