EMBRACING THE DRAGON WITHIN

The strings of power, courage, and determination that weave into the fabric of life are a tale of empowerment, fighting hardship, and raising from the ashes. My mother and my sister, who have been my major supports in life, materialize as living human manifestations of a dragon, each presenting a portion of the legendary living being’s shifting characteristics. Meanwhile, I analyze what strings define me. I try to describe power as acknowledging the fact that I am vulnerable and not. It is a barely heard rumble that shatters the silence within the flow of taking gracefully and steadily wherever it may take me. The unseeable courage reflects in my mother, a person with a life punctuated by hardships and achievements.

The weight of my mother’s shoulders never distorts under the burden of life’s tempests; her shoulders are a haven of permanence. The power of the dragon within her does not come from challenging it but from accepting it and realizing the fragility of the mother, who deals with the tragedy with an unparalleled delicacy. She calmly growls—the type of noise that raises me off the ground without being too forceful. This wave is soft and delicate, just what I need in the tumultuous water of reality. Guided by self-awareness, my sister overcame the ember of the dragon within her. There is no will to overpower; there is a will to influence. My sister’s power is so understated yet influential that everyone around her cannot help but remain honest with each other. It is my sister, the dragon at my side, who accompanies me through the maze of growth and self-knowledge.

The most moving pages in the magnificent symphony of perseverance were written by my mother and my sister. Their lives resemble the flight of the phoenix; it is a blooming flower on the ruins of somebody’s tragedy, the art of change that goes beyond survival. My mother is a living personification of the phoenix; she has been rising from the ashes in a most graceful way. It is not simply surviving; the difference is the beautiful power that one gets during the reconstruction. The scars are not wounds to be afraid of. These are the military order, the traces of heroism.
They serve as a reminder of the tale of her perseverance against difficulties; each stroke of the phoenix marks where not only she toughened up but also grew in wisdom and strength.

In a similar way, my sister combats life’s problems with enduring toughness, riding on the same gritty mentality. Her story is not a rigid number but a living song of the highs and lows of her life’s journey, a harmony of rebirth. Not only does the phoenix inside her fly, it soars—the ultimate transformation that comes from facing hardship and conquering it. Her will to overcome her tribulations molds her into a force that transcends bounds and is not a mere barrier against life’s problems.Likewise, my mother chiming the same plaintive melody, sees the tragedy of life through a lens of invincible survival. Her story is a song of rebirth, an evolving tune that dances to the murkiest and brightest notes of her being. The phoenix in her doesn’t just rise; it soars to soaring heights and shimmers with a light bright enough to see its transformation ever after.

My sister’s resilience is not a shield of invulnerability but the fire that shapes and forges her into a creature too powerful to be limited by time. They both teach me that resilience is not about burning but about being on fire and emerging stronger because of it. Resilience is not about seeing obstacles in one’s path but recognizing the stones needed to ascend into the sky with the phoenix.