a group of beautiful women enter the dinner party;
each a tapestry of heritage – woven with legacy
in a multicultural world, where people’s hearts and homes
are oftentimes, in more than one place
beauty is the spreading of branches in these new places
whilst remaining steady in your roots

a grove of hearts, voices scattered in constellations
murmuring minds. the teacups are filled to their brims
with stories whose inked footprints, lie in chapters
bound by the threads of culture 

amidst the tall paraffin candles, intricate tablecloths
and glowing hues of gold – if you look closely every
seat is dressed in a different story 

one woman shares her pepeha, 
pois attached at the hip, tā moko ever present,
pounamu adorning her neck, her ancestors echoing
gracefully in every move she makes 
another arrives in a baby blue and white hanbok,
delicately pouring a carefully brewed tangerine tea,
sourced from Jeju Island 
radiant skin hailing from the land of sun and snow 

bright colours, bold jewellery and vibrance
embellish another guest – she speaks of festivities, 
food and dance back home during el Día de los Muertos 
and her childhood, playing football in the alleys of Barcelona
a certain poise and wit fill the air of the woman next to her,
the sleeves of her soft orange hanfu flow delicately, a 
direct mirror to the sunsets she witnessed amidst the
modern metropolis of Guangzhou 
 
as more guests trickle in, their stories cascading in trails 
behind them, a twinkle of culture in their outfits or mannerisms –

the host announces a cheers,
she hails from the land of spice and silk,
patterns of rich heritage knitted into the fabrics of her
salwar kameez, jhumkas in her ears and kajal decorating her waterline

there is something cataclysmic in the realisation
that our strength, our beauty – it lies in the reclamation of who we are – and our cultures serve as the epicentres upon which we walk, create and build
in a world that is so divided, by casting webs in our communities we bridge fragments, carrying the past forward and carving space for future generations – rupture transforms into rhythm in cracks the world tries to silence
you belong and you are beautiful,
let your culture serve as a compass, a looking glass into your ambitions

we remember that belonging and beauty are not found, but made —
woven gently, like kinship, around shared tables
and so with a newfound sense of purpose, after the sharing of foods and teas and conversation, hearts full
the group of beautiful women leave the dinner party