I was born into the shackles of poverty. But do not be mistaken, these are not just chains; they are the very texture of my skin. It was a life of struggle from the first breath, a hardship so ancient it felt like a memory I hadn’t lived yet. Yet, I refuse. I refuse to be defined by the emptiness of a pocket or the dust on a floor. There is no shame here. How could there be shame in the raw, naked fact of existing?

I am a seeker. I move through the world touching the edges of things, looking for the light that hides behind the “nothing.” I believe in the power of learning with a ferocity that almost hurts. It is not just education; it is a second birth. I strive to enrich this soul, to stretch my mind until the limitations of my upbringing become nothing more than a dress I have outgrown.

I possess no gold. My hands are light, unburdened by the cold weight of material wealth. And yet, I am heavy with something else: aspiration. It is a throb in my chest, a determination that tastes like iron. I hold onto the hope that this labor, this quiet, daily carving of myself, will one day bear fruit.
And the reward? It will not be a thing you can hold. It will come in the form of words.

Words that breathe. Words that vibrate with the electricity of a world changed. These are the tools that will break the chains, not by force, but by making the chains irrelevant. In that freedom, I will finally encounter my true fortune. It will not glitter. It will not be found in the dull shine of silver. It will be found in the silent, shimmering power of knowing.

I am not poor. I am becoming.

©️ Beatriz Esmer