When the Sky Remembers Her Name

Long before footsteps learned the weight of dust,
The spirit learned how to rise.
Not to escape the earth,
but to greet it from another breath.

The elders say joy is a ceremony,
not laughter, but surrender—
the moment when the heart opens
and the world answers back.

She lifts what has been carried too long:
grief loosened into motion,
Hope returns as rhythm.
What falls away is not lost;
It becomes an offering.

Here, the soul is not alone.
It moves with the ancestors,
with those who danced so the sun would stay,
So tomorrow I would remember how to begin.

This is not a celebration for its own sake.
It is survival made beautiful.
A reminder spoken without words:
The spirit knows when it is time
to rise and be seen.

🎨Artist and storyteller: Dorothy Vera