HOPE POEM: "59. WAY UP, BLESSED" BY THE WÖRDSMITH

We live in a shifty solar

Circulated with a planet of bills

Some losing hopes to graves

While others championing to deal with adversities

I know what poverty feels like

It’s not easy climbing those hills 

Hacking folks’ anatomy for no reason

Paralyzing faces flourishing sorrows, 

I know the pain of insults 

Displayed on one’s face

Having done no wrong, misjudged

Busy struggling to make ends meet

It doesn’t matter whether I am rich

Because I am thankful, for free breath

Being watched by an immortal spirit

To always struggle until one day, imma conquer

So when I get something to fill my stomach 

Am way up, feeling blessed

Offering supplications, to bless my soul

Optimistic, believing in future dreams

THE WORDSMITH, CBK

(Mbele ni sawa

Art of splendor )

- Kenya 🇰🇪

The poet personae laments the pains that come along with being poor. Yet, the voice believes in the glorious future that lies in hardwork.