Kwanzaa's Declaration

We declare
in the name of the Ancestors
who survived what was meant to erase them.

We declare
by drumbeat, heartbeat, and holy fire
we are STILL HERE.

Not broken.
Not borrowed.
Not finished.

Kwanzaa is not a holiday
it is a homecoming.

Umoja rises in the room.
Unity not as theory,
but as choice.
As practice.
As promise.

I will not survive alone.

Kujichagulia lives in our mouths

self-determination naming us
when the world gets it wrong.
We speak ourselves free.

Ujima...
hands linked, shoulders touching.
Because freedom
is too heavy
to carry solo.

Ujamaa...
love circulating like currency.
We invest in our own
because survival taught us how.

Nia...
purpose in every step.
Every breath an assignment.
We are not lost.
We are intentional.

Kuumba...
turning pain into beauty,
beauty into prophecy.
We make something sacred
out of everything.

Imani...
faith when the evidence is thin.
Faith when the road is long.
Faith in us.

Now light the candles.

Red.
for the struggle that sharpened us.

Black.
for a people who refused to disappear.

Green.
for a future bold enough to answer us back.

Kwanzaa is not quiet.
It is not small.
It is a declaration.

We are ancestral dreams
with a pulse.

And as long as these candles burn
as long as we choose each other

We are STILL HERE.

And we are
just
getting
started.