By Dories Kwamboka
I was raised where dreams spoke in hush,
In a home where love wore modest hush.
My mother stitched hope into every thread,
With hands that shaped the life we led.
She knocked on doors with weary feet,
Took any job to make ends meet.
She pieced together school fees owed,
And bore our grief with strength she showed.
We ate what little graced our plate,
And fought through hunger, fear, and fate.
Still, she taught us to arise,
Never to flinch when storms would rise.
We stand today, not forged in gold,
But made from stories strong and bold.
From trials, love, and silent grace,
We bloom where life broke every place.