I trace the scars— faint lines etched beneath the skin of history, stories sewn into the fabric of my ancestors’ hands— the ones who held on through storm and silence.
Perseverance is the slow, steady breath that rises from the depths of broken ground, a song passed down in fractured voices, a promise kept in the trembling of a child’s voice.
I carry their weight, not as burden, but as backbone— each step forward a wish, a quiet defiance, a testament written in the margins of time, that even in darkness, we persist, we survive.
And in this resilience, I find my voice— not loud, but persistent, like the dawn, a reminder that hope, like roots, runs deep— unseen, unbroken, enduring.
