Echoes of Heritage

She walked in, radiant, bold, and free,

Her beauty a tapestry of ancestry.

Wrapped in colours that sang of her roots,

A harmony of tradition and modern pursuits.

Her name, a melody rich and profound,

Yet the tune she sang was a foreign sound.

I asked its meaning—her gaze turned shy,

“Nope,” she whispered, a quiet reply.

Her voice betrayed a fragile thread,

A heritage slipping, a story unsaid.

A name once vibrant with culture’s embrace,

Now dulled by distance, lost in space.

Oh, how the rivers forget their source,

Drifting away from their natural course.

When roots are severed and ties unwind,

The essence of self grows harder to find.

For names are more than letters and sound;

They’re histories woven, identities bound.

To lose their meaning is too great a cost—

A treasure misplaced, a legacy lost.

So let us teach the young to hold tight,

To honor their names with pride and light.

For a river that remembers its way to the sea

Shall flow forever—whole and free.