All day long, my mind had turned to a creative artist busy painting a picture of the agonies of the common man in my country. And as I begin to ponder on why the common man is been subjugated to the whims and caprices of those in power, I also wonder why our resistance has been so feeble. At the thought of our resignation to our fate,I feel pains slashing at my heart.

I move over to the center of my bedroom, from this position I move my neck to and fro as if I am searching for that season when we had a reason that gave birth to a curiosity on our part as to what was on the top of and what lied on the other side of the mountain. When our determination was our sable vehicle of courage.

I walk over to the table beside my window and I pick up a picture. I look at it and memories come flooding back to me. The picture is a snapshot of a time when we had a driving urge to search for that beacon like light that we all knew with all certainty would bring us delight.

Once upon a time, the motion of living was so mild, now everything has become the aversion of something else. The motion of surviving has suddenly become so wild. We have been left with a gaping void in the fabric of our lives and almost unendurable senses of know nothing.

I lay the picture to rest on the table,I touch my face for the tear that is about to stream down my cheeks and my stomach becomes filled with bubbles of dissapointment. It is such a precarious situation, what we are going through in our attempt to stay afloat on a rampaging sea . While some of us are striving to reach the shore, others are struggling to hold on to a piece of log to overcome the tide.
It looks like we are pissing in a net.

Some of us now cry in our sleep because our eyes refuse to close so deep, and the beep of the alarm clock every morning makes our heart leap like we are on a bumpy ride.
The sound of dawn has lost its sweetness; the taste now is like a knife to our weak heart.

Everyday in our lives is painted with the colures of apprehension; everywhere speaks of the faces of depression. Our faces!
We have completely fallen apart, the travails of life is now the currency of our world and poverty has become the path that is leading us into a tomorrow that is pregnant with a sunlight that will skim glimmers of hope.

Why is the strength in our faith to overcome our fate becoming so little?
Why do we grope in the dark?

With jerky unsure movements I walk over to the window and stare into the open, straining to keep my gaze on the moon as if my answers are written on it.

I know that the mind is filled with so much pain and anguish. I also know that lately we have become strangers to a smile, for the wants and needs that we cherish have refused to flourish. Nevertheless this is not a reason for us to become an outcast like Cain,just wandering and moping.

The going has become rougher for us. Now,our reaction needs to become tougher too.

Hope is available to us