Roots That Ground Me

I carry a name whispered by ancestors,

a name woven with threads of faith and fight.

In its syllables, I hear the clang of swords,

the soft hum of prayer,

and the steady beat of courage.

My roots run deep,

like the fields where mustard flowers sway,

yellow seas stretching beneath a golden sun.

Each stem carries stories of sacrifice,

Each petal whispers resilience.

But I am not just soil and past,

I am storms and futures unknown.

I walk halls where stares linger a little longer,

my turban, a beacon, my voice, a flame.

In a world of walls, I build bridges,

in a tide of silence, I sing.

My heart beats for the young who rise,

for hands that stretch to lift others high.

With every fundraiser, every story shared,

I etch hope on pages yet unwritten.

Yes, I carry a name, a legacy,

a history heavy yet light as breath.

And as the winds change and the world bends,

I stand,

unshaken, unyielding,

rooted,

yet reaching for the sky.