I will not get smaller. I will not cower. I will not collapse my shoulders, bend my spine, break my back to bear the burden of bigotry, racism, genocide our people have carried under threat of lash and fire far too long. A toxic underbelly weighing us down. No. I listen to my Grandmothers’ songs set to a rhythm of egun whispering their secret strength. I lift my head to their web of stars and chart my Freedom path. Because we are Harriet’s feet that run to the Uncharted. We are the seeds she plants when she arrives. A forest nourished on waters of Osun, we expand. Rooted by the river, we shall not be moved.