Dear God
The morning sun filtered weakly through the dusty window, its rays barely warming the cold room. Akinyi lay in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling above. The alarm clock had rung three times already, each shrill sound an unwelcome reminder of the day ahead. She sighed deeply, rolling onto her side to silence it once more What is it, Lord, to wake up each day, With sadness that clouds the morning's ray? Unsure of the steps I am called to take, Dreams feel brittle, as if they’ll break. Work awaited her—a mundane routine at the customer service desk of a company that barely paid her enough to survive. Yet, quitting wasn’t an option. The landlord didn’t care about passion or dreams, only rent. Her younger brother, still in school, relied on her for tuition and meals. And so, despite the loathing in her heart, Akinyi dragged herself from bed. To walk these streets where hope feels thin, Where many struggle, yet few win. Corruption reigns, justice feels lost, And dreams are traded at suc...