From Where We Begin

From where we begin,
humans did not belong
they survived.

They didn’t arrive with gold,
or comfort,
or maps.
Only with bruised palms,
bare feet,
and eyes trained
on storms.

From where we begin,
the land
was neither gentle
nor cruel
just waiting
for someone
to try.

Fires were lit
not for warmth,
but to keep
darkness honest.
Stones were not steps
but questions.
And silence
was louder
than thunder.

From where we begin,
no flag waved.
No anthem played.
There was only breath
fragile,
frightened,
furious.

We began
where the dust settled
after men fought over names
they did not understand.
Where children
drew futures
in the dirt
with sticks
and broken fingernails.

We began
under skies
too tired to cry,
with stars
that stared
but did not guide.

Still
we rose.

We shaped words
out of hunger.
Built homes
out of longing.
Sang songs
from pain
that never asked
for melody.

From where we begin,
it wasn’t about origin
it was about refusal.
Refusal to stop.
Refusal to fall silent.
Refusal to let the world
decide
who we become.

Because from where we begin,
humans didn’t just live
they learned
to rise.