In the heart of a country, where rivers flow like veins, my love was born. It emerged from the midnight coils of a woman’s plaited hair, where water and memory entwined. This skin, adorned with the hues of mango and Eastern sunrise, is not solely mine; it bears the imprints of toiling hands—the legacy of my mother and her mother before her, who sowed the earth with love.

Glass bangles chime, weaving music through the air. They carry baskets of rice, lifted above heads full of rivers—rivers that flow not only with water but with stories, dreams, and the heartbeat of a nation. No, I speak not of a person, but of a land whose heart cradles the moon, whose pulse echoes my mother’s song.

And as these rivers spill forth into the vast ocean, they become strands of moonlight, pulling me homeward. For in that country, where roots intertwine and memories dance, my love finds its origin—a tapestry woven with threads of longing, belonging, and the eternal pull of home. 🌙🌿🙏🏾❤️

©️Beatriz Esmer