I am the girl
standing at the edge of tomorrow,
hands open to the lessons of the past,
heart open to the wind of the spirits.
You are the elder,
guardian of stories,
keeper of memory,
your hands hold generations
woven in red and white threads.
The sash passes between us,
a bridge of life and identity,
the glow of ancestors
lingering in each stitch.
I feel their whispers
in the quiet of your eyes,
their voices carried
in the rhythm of your hands.
You tie the knot,
not just of fabric,
but of trust, of belonging,
of the endless circle
that binds our people.
I breathe in your wisdom,
I carry your hope,
I step forward,
woven into the tapestry
of all who came before,
all who will come after.
Go in beauty,
little one,
and may the sash guide you
as it has guided us all.
– A. Liora
