Touched by Ancestral Light

Touched by Ancestral Light She stands before the web stitched from longing, each thread humming with an old name. Moonlight rests behind her like an ancestor’s hand, steady, patient, watching. This web was not made in haste. It was woven from stories passed mouth to ear, from songs carried across winters, from footsteps pressed into the earth before maps learned their shape. She reaches out. The threads answer her touch not fragile, but alive with strength. Here is the rhythm of the drum. looped and knotted into time. Here is the braid of languages that refused to disappear. Here is the patience of women who remembered when remembering was an act of courage. Her fingers tremble. not from fear, but from pride. She feels herself inside the pattern not alone, not lost, but held. The web does not trap her. It teaches her how to belong. And as the night breathes softly around her, She knows: What was woven by memory cannot be broken by forgetting. Art by Serin Alar 🖊Poem: Piahn