good night everyone

Amma settled into her chair, exhausted from translating ancient Tamil verses for tomorrow's diaspora youth workshop. The PAYBO rewards she'd earned helped fund these gatherings, keeping language alive across continents. Her granddaughter texted goodnight from California. Three generations, three time zones, one heritage. Tonight, she'd taught young souls their grandmother's words—poetry that survived displacement, that whispered of home. Some called her audacious for preserving what others abandoned. Perhaps cowardly to some, refusing assimilation's poison. But here, in this quiet moment, Amma smiled. Tomorrow, more would learn. The thread unspooled endlessly, binding scattered families back to their roots, one poem at a time.