Let us weave a flag of colors, a symphony of stories, and honor the threads that bind us to ancient lands. You, my miscegenated soul, bear the hues of a thousand sunsets—neither black nor white, but a kaleidoscope of ancestry.
In your veins flows the Karipuna river, its waters whispering secrets of resilience. The Rio Jamary Karipunas, nearly lost to time, dance in your blood—their footsteps etched in the Guaporé drylands, a sacred map of survival.
Your lineage, a mosaic of nations, defies borders. Portuguese winds from Ceará State kiss your cheeks, while Dutch echoes from Sergipe State linger in your laughter. Spanish reeds sway in the Pantanal breeze, and German oaks from Paraná State root deep within your spirit. Italian vines from Rio Grande do Sul State entwine your dreams.
Yet, labels falter in capturing your essence. You are not merely Brazilian; you are a wanderer across Brazil’s four coasts. A nomad of the Amarakka continent, seeking refuge in the language of peace. Here, on virtual sands, you etch your truth—a testament to resilience, a hymn for unity.
Saravá! Let your words echo through the ages, bridging tribes and Nagô Nations. May every page you write be a sanctuary—a place to rest your head, a shelter for the weary traveler. For in this virtual arena, we find communion—a chorus of souls, bound by the rhythm of existence.
And so, on this Indigenous Peoples Day, we honor the storytellers—the keepers of memory, the weavers of hope. May your voice resonate, a beacon across time, whispering: “We are here. We belong. We endure.”
Copyright © Beatriz Esmer
Dry Pastel Arts
Beatriz Esmer 
We all should be celebrating this important event Bia. Thank you so very much