Song of the Ancestors

Dear Delyara, I am the daughter of women who were never allowed to have a "sanctuary." My grandmother’s secrets were buried in the dough of the bread she baked; my mother’s sorrows were hidden in the rhythm of the laundry she folded. They carried the weight of the world on their backs and never asked for a pen. Tonight, I am writing for them. I am the first woman in my bloodline who is allowed to be "too much." I am pouring their unshed tears into this inkwell. I am telling the stories they had to whisper in the dark. This isn't just my letter; it is a thousand-year-old scream finally finding its way to the stars. I am free, and because I am free, they are finally heard.