29/08/2026
When the Dragonflies Remember
Long ago,
when the rivers still spoke freely
and the stars seemed close enough
to touch with an open hand,
our people walked beside the water
and listened to the songs of the land.
There was a young woman
who waited every evening
at the edge of the river.
She had lost someone she loved,
and no words from the village elders
could quiet the emptiness in her heart.
One evening,
as the sun disappeared behind the hills,
a dragonfly settled upon her hand.
Its wings caught the last light of day
blue, violet, and gold,
like a tiny sky
folded into four fragile wings.
She whispered,
“Are you carrying a message
from the ones who have gone?”
The dragonfly lifted into the air
and circled her three times.
Then it flew toward the river.
She followed.
At the water's edge,
she heard the voice of the wind
moving through the reeds:
What we love does not leave us.
It changes its shape.
It becomes the river,
the feather,
the song,
the light upon your face.
She closed her eyes
and for the first time in many moons,
she did not ask the spirits
to bring the past back.
She simply thanked them
for having loved her once.
From that night forward,
whenever dragonflies appeared
above the quiet waters,
our people would stop and listen.
For they believed
the little wings carried memories
between this world and the next
not to remind us of sorrow,
but to teach us
that every life is part of a greater circle.
So when a dragonfly crosses your path,
do not chase it.
Stand still.
Let the wind touch your face.
Let the river speak.
Perhaps someone you have loved
is reminding you gently:
Keep walking.
Keep loving.
Keep your heart open to the light.
For the dragonfly knows
what the elders have always known
even the briefest life
can leave a beautiful trail
across the sky.
🎨 Art by Serin Alar
🖊️Poem: Piahn
