WHO I HELP? - by Muhammad Mercurial

Laughing on wounds Stretching bleeding arms to help This is the Sanga, where men are made Where pain wears perfume And hunger puts on courage Where broken boys learn to bury tears Where the weak get tested And the strong get tempted Where survival comes before respect I have seen empty pockets Give more than golden hands I have seen rich hearts die poor Here, kindness walks barefoot While betrayal rides in convoy And loyalty sleeps with one eye open I help the ones who hustle The ones who bleed in silence The ones who still share their last I carry no saviour badge I am just a man with scars Trying not to become the wound Some need a hand Some need a warning Some need the truth without sugar I pull men from the gutter But I don't carry their pride A rescued man must learn to stand I know the taste of struggle The smell of desperate nights The silence after a failed prayer My family sees a future My pocket sees a battle My shoulders carry both They want a son who makes it A name that outlives struggle A home where lack won't knock I carry my mother's prayers Like armour beneath my shirt Even when my faith walks limping My father's hope sits heavy In the silence of my failure I must become more than potential I dream of little footsteps Running freely through my houseNever learning fear from hunger My children must inherit vision Not the wounds I never healed Not the debts my silence buried I want to father with patience Not the anger life taught me Not the absence I survived Let my children know my lap Before they learn my sacrifices Let my voice feel safer than the world I want to be their shelter Not the storm they escape Their first definition of home But the road demands payment Some risks wear familiar faces Some graves begin with one brave step I take risks in silence Drinking palm wine with DeathAnd nobody knows the distance Some nights, I fight tomorrow With a body tired of today Still, I rise before the sun Who sees the man trembling? Who asks what courage costs? Who holds the hands that hold everybody? I am the man they lean on The son expected to deliver The brother hiding his own hunger I am the man, sister, mother, daughter and wife will be proud to have Not because I never fall But because I rise without selling my soul A man with room for tenderness A heart that does not fear responsibility A backbone that does not bend to evil I want my name to mean safety My presence to mean peace My absence to leave love behind Who I help? The fallen who still fight The wounded who refuse to wound The hungry who still share The broken who still build The lost who still seek home But don't mistake my heart For a place to dump your darkness Even open doors have locks This is the Sanga Where men are made And pretenders are unmasked I help who I can and where my strength reaches I won't drown to prove I can swim.

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