Poem - Hard Times, Poetess - Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj (Trinidad and Tobago)

Hard Times

Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj 

In the shadow of a shrinking wage,

We pace the floor, we turn the page

Of days once bright, now dimmed and gray,

Where dreams feel further every day.

The pantry's thin, the rent comes due,

We stretch each coin, we count what's few.

Jobs come and go like drifting leaves,

And hope is stitched on worn-out sleeves.

The news speaks loud of rising cost,

Of markets crashed and savings lost.

But silence sits around our meals,

Where hunger’s something no one feels.

Still—there's strength in hands grown rough,

In quiet hearts that won't give up.

In borrowed coats and patched-up pride,

We find the fire that burns inside.

For hard times come, but so they go

Like storms that pass, like melting snow.

And in the wreckage, roots still cling,

Awaiting rain, awaiting spring.

Let kindness be our daily bread,

A word, a glance, a tear we shed.

For even when the night is long,

The poor still rise—and sing their song.

©® Omatee Ann Marie Hansraj