"The Struggle" - Bahamas AI Art
©A. Derek Catalano
The Struggle Is Real
In the land of turquoise seas and postcard views,
Where tourists roam and the sun shines through,
Lies a story not often told or seen—
The struggle is real beneath the Bahamian sheen.
Island dreams meet days that feel long,
Waves crash hard, but the will stays strong.
Here, we’re born to salt and sand,
But life is heavy in this promised land.
In the land of turquoise seas and postcard views,
Where tourists roam and the sun shines through,
Lies a story not often told or seen—
The struggle is real beneath the Bahamian sheen.
Island dreams meet days that feel long,
Waves crash hard, but the will stays strong.
Here, we’re born to salt and sand,
But life is heavy in this promised land.
The Cost of Living’s Sting
Groceries stack high on slim paychecks,
Each dollar stretched till it breaks our necks.
Eggs, bread, and milk hold a heavy weight—
Our trolleys are light but our hope stays great.
In a land of plenty, some still go without,
Faces in line, quiet voices shout.
They say it’s paradise, but we pay a steep fee—
In a nation where living costs drown in the sea.
Electric bills like waves, crashing in fast,
Keeping the lights on can feel like the last
Breath of our savings, worn thin as sand—
Caught in the tide of a demanding land.
Workin’ Hard, Barely Gettin’ By
Early dawns call with the rooster’s crow,
Off to jobs with a grinding flow.
Office to office, or on the docks,
Sweating all day, from nine to knock.
Tourists smile at us, free and tan,
But our backs bear the weight of another man’s plan.
There’s pride in our labor, but the balance is thin,
Workin’ for others while the system wins.
Washing dishes, haulin’ cargo, fishin’ the sea—
Every dollar fought for, none come free.
While some sip cocktails on soft sandy shores,
Others break sweat just to keep open doors.
The Struggle Is Real
The struggle is real in the land of the free,
We toil in the shadow of a rich man’s dream.
Blue skies, blue seas, but bills run deep,
A paradise wrapped in secrets we keep.
The fight to survive, to simply stand tall,
This island life ain’t easy at all.
Family and Faith, the Backbone of All
Mothers work doubles, fathers work late,
Trying to shoulder the weight of fate.
Hands held out to church and kin,
Faith fills spaces where hope runs thin.
Little ones play while the bills pile high,
In laughter and love, we touch the sky.
Though life may be hard, our spirits don’t break—
In each other’s embrace, we find what it takes.
Old stories told by our grandmothers’ tongues,
Songs of resilience the old folks sung.
Through hurricanes, heat, and high prices that sting,
Our family’s the boat that helps us cling.
Dreams on Hold, But Still Alive
Education’s a treasure, but not always free,
For the youth who wish for opportunity.
Scholarships fought for, chances are few,
In a system that feels like it’s locked with a screw.
Dreams are postponed, and futures delayed,
While the strong-hearted hustle and dues get paid.
Some leave the island for shores afar,
Chasing horizons like distant stars.
The sand beneath our feet knows our pain,
From island to city, our hopes remain.
Someday the weight will lift, we pray,
Till then we fight through every day.
Resilience in Every Wave
Oh, how we’ve weathered storms fierce and cold,
Still standing strong, though life feels sold.
The land may take, but it also gives—
In hardship, we find our reason to live.
Sunsets remind us, pink and warm,
Of the beauty within each battered form.
Each wave that crashes on this rugged shore
Carries the strength of those who came before.
The Struggle Is Real
The struggle is real in the land of the free,
We toil in the shadow of a rich man’s dream.
Blue skies, blue seas, but bills run deep,
A paradise wrapped in secrets we keep.
The fight to survive, to simply stand tall,
This island life ain’t easy at all.
Hope Like a Seed, Rooted Deep
Bahamian hearts, tough as stone,
Together we stand, never alone.
We lift each other in times of despair,
With a hand to give, and a prayer to share.
Hope grows like a seed, reaching wide—
Roots run deep in our island pride.
For though we struggle, we also believe
In a better tomorrow we can achieve.
So here’s to the fighters, the weary and worn,
The fathers and mothers, the brave and the torn.
In the face of hardship, we find a way,
For the sun rises on us each new day.
The Struggle Is Real
Yes, the struggle is real in the land of the free,
But we rise with the tides of our own inner sea.
Beneath skies so blue, our spirits stand tall—
Through hardship and heartache, we answer the call.
The struggle is real, yet so is our pride,
In this Bahamian life, come high or low tide.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
Related article: Understanding Inflation: Worldwide and in The Bahamas
Related poem: Trying To Survive
