An Empty Manchin and a Closed Sinema

 I thought a manchin was a very big house, a place large enough to hold all our possibilities.

I thought the sinema was the land of hope and dreams, where, if you just believed, it could appear. Where magic became reality.

But I was wrong. This manchin is dark and foreboding, vacant save for the shrill cries of a single occupant.

And today this sinema is shuttered, not inviting us in to show imagination brought to life. This one small of purpose and unwelcoming to what could be.

And so we are held hostage, buffeted by the angry winds, with nowhere to enter, no safe passage. A better tomorrow placed on hold until further notice.

A Manchin with room for only one. A Sinema where dreams go to die.

And so we wait.