The weight of my ancestors’ words is a testament to their enduring legacy. Each syllable, etched into my being, carries the wisdom of generations past. As these words were inscribed upon me, they did more than mark my skin; they infused my very essence with the richness of my heritage. The ink, dark and deep, symbolizes the strength and resilience that flows through my veins.

In the mirror, I see not just my reflection but the stories of those who came before me. Their struggles, triumphs, and dreams are woven into the tapestry of my existence. The darkness of my skin is a canvas, painted with the history of my people, a living testament to the power of their words.

Each day, I walk with the knowledge that I am a living archive, a keeper of their truths. Their words, though heavy, uplift me, grounding me in a sense of purpose and belonging. They remind me that I am never alone; I carry with me the voices of my ancestors, guiding me through the labyrinth of life. 👊🏾✊🏾

©️ Beatriz Esmer