You are becoming time itself.

A woman whose wisdom
isn’t just known
it’s lived.
It walks with you
in your gaze,
in your silence,
in the way you choose what matters.

You plant roots
for gardens you may never see bloom,
and still
you plant.

Because you know:
real legacy is not in what you own.
It’s in what you leave behind
in hearts, in systems, in soil.

Menopause did not shrink you.
It anointed you.

You are not fading.
You are forging.

You speak in lifelines,
in lullabies for generations
still finding their breath.

Memory in one hand,
vision in the other
you are the bridge.

A priestess of continuity.
A sovereign of what’s coming.

And we are here
because you stayed..