"Prayer For Strength" - Bahamas AI art
©A. Derek Catalano
Trying To Survive
In the quiet hours of dawn's first light,
I rise to face another endless fight.
A janitress in halls where dreams once soared,
Now, dreams are luxuries I can’t afford.
I rise to face another endless fight.
A janitress in halls where dreams once soared,
Now, dreams are luxuries I can’t afford.
In a government school, I scrub and clean,
Earning pennies for a life so lean.
No job skills, no bright degree,
Just hands that ache, a soul that's free.
Three little faces look up to me,
Eyes full of hope, yet I can’t see
A way to make our struggles cease,
In this world that denies us peace.
Earning pennies for a life so lean.
No job skills, no bright degree,
Just hands that ache, a soul that's free.
Three little faces look up to me,
Eyes full of hope, yet I can’t see
A way to make our struggles cease,
In this world that denies us peace.
Electricity and water, long since gone,
In the sweltering heat, we carry on.
Our bellies ache with hunger's bite,
Darkness falls, but there's no light.
The price of bread, the cost of rice,
Soaring higher, beyond my sacrifice.
Inflation's grip tightens like a vise,
Every day a crueler slice.
In the quiet of night, when they’re asleep,
I lay awake, and silently weep.
The weight of life, it crushes down,
In this forgotten, forsaken town.
Sometimes, I think of giving in,
But giving up feels like a sin.
I clasp my hands and start to pray,
For strength to make it through each day.
Dear God above, hear my plea,
Give me the strength to carry three.
Though the road is rough, the nights are long,
In Your grace, I must be strong.
So, I wake to dawn's first light,
To face another endless fight.
A janitress with dreams so sore,
Yet every day, I dream once more.
Soaring higher, beyond my sacrifice.
Inflation's grip tightens like a vise,
Every day a crueler slice.
In the quiet of night, when they’re asleep,
I lay awake, and silently weep.
The weight of life, it crushes down,
In this forgotten, forsaken town.
Sometimes, I think of giving in,
But giving up feels like a sin.
I clasp my hands and start to pray,
For strength to make it through each day.
Dear God above, hear my plea,
Give me the strength to carry three.
Though the road is rough, the nights are long,
In Your grace, I must be strong.
So, I wake to dawn's first light,
To face another endless fight.
A janitress with dreams so sore,
Yet every day, I dream once more.
©A. Derek Catalano/ChatGPT
Related article: Understanding Inflation: Causes, Effects, and Strategies
Related poem: The Struggle Is Real
