The sun rises the same way every morning,

bold and golden over Lagos traffic,

over dusty streets in Kano,

over quiet villages where the rooster still believes in hope.

But for the poor man,

the sun is not warmth—

it is a spotlight

on empty pockets.

Garri has become a luxury,

rice now whispers its price like a secret too shameful to repeat.

The market woman adjusts her scale,

not to cheat—

but to survive.

A father stands before his children

like a tree in harmattan—

stripped, cracking,

trying to look strong

while his roots thirst beneath the soil.

Transport fare climbs like a greedy vine,

wrapping itself around salaries

that refuse to grow.

Minimum wage is a rumor,

inflation a roaring lion

that feeds daily

and is never satisfied.

In the night,

generators cough like old men with broken lungs,

fuel prices burning brighter than the lantern’s flame.

Darkness stretches its arms across the nation

like a stubborn landlord

refusing to leave.

Dreams are postponed again—

university fees stacked like unpaid prayers,

hospital bills sharp as broken glass,

rent knocking at the door

with the impatience of a creditor.

An average poor woman in Aba

counts her coins twice,

not because she cannot count—

but because she hopes

the numbers will change.

Hope here is a thin mattress—

too soft to rest on,

too hard to throw away.

The country is rich, they say—

oil beneath the soil,

gold in forgotten corners,

talent in every child’s bright eyes.

Yet the people walk like shadows

beneath their own wealth.

A young graduate roams the streets

CV folded like a silent protest,

his certificate heavy as a stone

in a pocket already torn.

Still—

every morning they rise.

They sell, they drive, they teach, they pray.

They laugh in between hunger.

They dance at weddings with borrowed shoes.

They greet each other with

“How far?”

when the distance between survival and collapse

is only a thin thread.

Nigeria breathes,

and her poor breathe with her—

not because it is easy,

but because surrender

is more expensive than endurance.

And under the same relentless sun,

they continue—

not unbroken,

but unyielding.