They walk beside us, unseen guides, in the curve of a nose, the shade of an eye. The resilience etched in generations past, a story whispered from the soil. They fought, they loved, they dreamed, they fell, leaving fragments of their spirit here. In the stories told, the traditions kept, their echoes resonate, a constant hum. We carry their battles, their wisdom, their art, a lineage of souls, a living stream. Their struggles forged the path we tread, their hopes, the seeds from which we bloom, a legacy of grit and grace, etched in the very air we breathe.
poem
Ancestors
1 min read
They walk beside us, unseen guides, — in the curve of a nose, the shade of an eye.
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