I am thankful for the morning
I am thankful for the day you were born
I am thankful I can watch you in your hammock
I am thankful that I can watch you grow
But I am not thankful for the poverty I cannot escape
I am not thankful for a house I can never own
I am not thankful for the security and fullness
Only the rich in this land can know
What must it be like to raise you in a community
Where I am not fearful for tomorrow and what it may bring?
What must it be like to be a mother
Who can shower her child with every good thing?
When I was a child I knew we were poor
And I wished I could study and play
So I strived and labored to have a better life
But my dreams seem to have been snatched away
Too many who grew up alongside me
Have known darkness, fear and despair
How many young women have been forced to sell their bodies?
How many more will die so meaninglessly because no one seems to care?
When I look upon you each morning
And I reach to hold you when you cry for me
You banish all the pain and suffering
And for you alone I will strive…
To escape the shackles of poverty.
Photo by Jonathan Sta. Rosa