Chains Across Time

The Plantation

The sugarcane rose like charred skeletons beneath a copper sky. Our bodies bent, our breath mixed with dust and ash, each movement a hymn of survival. Shadows of the fallen whispered beneath our feet, a chorus of what the earth had swallowed. Yet through the oppressive heat and relentless toil, our ancestors’ resilience glimmered in the sway of our forms, the silent rhythm of resistance pulsing in every step.