06/08/2026
Tomorrow doesn’t start tomorrow.
It starts in palms.
In the ones that have carried weight.
And the ones that are just learning how to.
This is The Seed In Our Palms.
I drew an elder. I drew a child.
Between them, a calabash. Nothing grand.
Just the kind of vessel we’ve always used to hold what matters.
Inside it is a seed.
Not maize. Not money.
It’s the things you can’t buy:
Knowledge passed down in whispers.
Culture that sits in the way we do things.
Values that are taught without words.
Responsibility that gets handed over, quietly.
That’s why it glows.
Because what we pass on is sacred.
And the patterns around it?
That’s us. Layered. Intentional. African.
Every dot, every line is a reminder that nothing about our story happened by chance.
I made this entire piece with BIC pen
Line by line.
Because that’s how this works too.
Legacy isn’t built in one day.
It’s built with patience. With pressure. With time.
The competition asks: Tomorrow In Your Hands
And I believe it.
Tomorrow is in your hands.
But it didn’t start with you.
It was placed there.
First in mine.
Then in his.
So I’ll leave you with this:
What seed are you holding right now?
And what will you do with it before you pass it on?
Title: The Seed In Our Palms
Medium: Ballpoint Pen on Paper
Size: 24 × 34 inches
Year: 2026