Minority, voices that are the quiet tones in between the chords.
The colors pouring beyond the upright frame line.
Our tongues bear lost narratives. Dance rhythm textbooks our feet would not promise.
Though they count us little, they rely on us to fade, But roots go deep where sunlight hardly penetrates.
Our legacy is created in quiet perseverance. Our presence goes over the silent barriers.
We are the connection connecting the shattered seam.
The mirror showing what you missed.
We are the dream that is waking, not less than whole: Minority in number, not in being free.