They told me hush,
when my truth dared to speak.
Tried to bind my soul
and call my power weak.
But I have walked through storms in bare feet,
with thunder singing lullabies to my grief.
I have bent — yes — but never broken.
I am the echo of prayers unspoken.
The rhythm of drumbeats carved in bone,
The daughter of dreams the world disowned.
I’ve danced with shadows on midnight floors,
Made light out of locked and shuttered doors.
Where they saw ashes, I planted flame —
where they said silence, I spoke my name.
My back is not a burden, but a bridge.
I carry generations over history’s ridge.
With every scar, I’ve sewn a verse —
A hymn of healing from the universe.
You may see a woman, but I am more —
a mountain rising from the ocean floor.
A whisper turned to warrior’s song,
a testament that pain makes spirit strong.
So lift your head, child of sun and soil,
let no hand shame the fruits of your toil.
The world may tremble at your rise,
but you — oh you — were born to fly.
And fly I shall, on wings made whole,
with love as compass, and fire as soul.
For I am not what fear devised —
I am what lives… when hope survives.
