A Broken Heart

A Broken Heart

I wake before the sun remembers its duty,

With plans folded neatly inside my chest,

Skills sharpened like tools in a worker’s box,

Yet no door waits for my knock.

My hands know labour,

My mind knows creation,

I have learned, unlearned, relearned—

Still, opportunity walks past me

As though I am invisible air.

Three months stretch like dry seasons,

Days counting themselves in silence,

Bills whisper louder than prayers,

And hope now negotiates with doubt.

They say work hard,

I did.

They say be patient,

I am.

But patience grows heavy

When effort bears no harvest.

I am not lazy—

Only stranded.

Not unskilled—

Only unseen.

Standing at life’s marketplace

With value nobody seems ready to buy.

Each rejection writes its name

Across my confidence,

Until even mirrors begin to ask

If diligence is enough.

Yet somewhere beneath this tired heart

Innovation still breathes—

Bruised, yes,

But refusing burial.

Because I know storms do not ask permission

Before they pass,

And even broken hearts

Still remember how to beat.

So tomorrow,

I will rise again—

Not because life is easy,

But because surrender

Has never learned my name.