Footsteps or Footnotes???

The elders lead, heads held proud,
feet on steps well-worn, well plouged.
The young ones trail, heads bent low,
following where they “ought” to go.

A woman behind, a man ahead,
the script unchanged, the lines still read.
Her steps are light, her space is small,
or so they thought. She’ll change it all.

Yet not alone, hands reach, stay,
lifting, guiding, lighting way.
Wisdom lent, not caged nor tied,
strength in voices, walked beside.

So here we march, down for a new page,
wrapped in colors, freed from age.
The flags still dance, the sun still burns,
and now—we rise. It is our turn.