Indigenous

I saw a group of girls with dolls in their arms, young women like me, women wandering through the national park, living there now. I learned from television news that they had lost everything and that their presence was invisible to the rest. The event was not long ago, the days passed. The marches became noticeable and their voices became more frequent. They were seeking light, support, and something of hope. At that moment, I realized where my soul was and where I belonged. Physically, I did not accompany them, but my thoughts wandered toward them. I could do little more than take a photograph and tell their stories from my perspective, which now is also theirs.