as we metamorphose
We chased the wind through gravel lots,
told stories in the sun-soft spots.
Spoke Spanish in the checkout line,
translated fear into “it’s fine.”
Held my brother’s hand through crowded space,
learned stillness in his silent grace.
Watched Mom brave a world not made for her,
became her voice, her messenger.
School bells rang like distant drums,
where I stood tall though doubt still comes.
The Boardroom didn’t feel like mine—
but I stayed, held steady, to redefine.
And when the cap flew toward the sky,
I didn’t cry—I knew just why:
We leave the halls but not the fight—
still shaped by love, still seeking light.
Copyright © Emanuel Munoz | Year Posted 2025
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