JEREMIAD: "A LETTER TO THE PRESIDENT" BY EDWARD S. KAMARA

Good afternoon, Mr. President,

It’s me, Edward, from a random community,

A place where food becomes survival,

And every new day feels like another battle for revival.

Mr. President, do you hear our cries?

Do you see the pain behind our children's eyes?

Do you know how many dreams have died,

While hungry mothers have no food to provide?

Good afternoon, Mr. President,

I hope this letter finds you in good health,

But I wonder if you know how it feels

To be rich in dreams but poor in wealth.

Mr. President, somewhere in this nation,

A mother is crying without consolation.

Her children ask, "Mama, what shall we eat?"

She looks away, hiding tears of defeat.

Somewhere, a father wakes up before the sun,

Searching for work, but finding none.

He walks through the streets with hope in his chest,

But returns home empty-handed, just like the rest.

And somewhere, a young man holds a degree,

With a thousand dreams of who he wants to be.

But opportunities stand behind locked doors,

While frustration keeps knocking on his soul.

Mr. President, I'm not writing to condemn,

I'm writing for those who have no voice to send.

For those whose suffering never makes the news,

And those who have everything to gain but everything to lose.

I come from a community where poverty speaks,

Where hope grows tired, and the future looks weak.

Where children dream of classrooms but hunger takes the lead,

And some abandon education because their families need to feed.

Tell me, Mr. President, what becomes of a nation

When survival becomes its people's only occupation?

When young people have strength but nowhere to go,

And the seeds of their talents have no place to grow?

We don't need promises that disappear with the wind,

Or beautiful speeches that leave us where we've been.

We need jobs for our youth, good schools for our children,

And a country where hard work can change someone's condition.

We need hospitals where the poor can receive care,

And leaders who remember the people everywhere.

We need food that is affordable, not a luxury to find,

And opportunities that leave no struggling child behind.

Mr. President, please don't mistake our silence for peace,

Some people have stopped complaining because their hope is deceased.

Some have cried so much that their tears have run dry,

And some have stopped asking the question, "Why?"

But I still believe this country can rise,

That there is still hope beneath these troubled skies.

I believe Sierra Leone can become a better place,

Where dignity belongs to every human face.

So, Mr. President, before you close this letter,

Remember that leadership means making people's lives better.

History will not remember you for the words you said,

But for whether your people were clothed, housed, and fed.

And when your time in that great office is done,

When the speeches are over and the battles are won,

Ask yourself one question as you look back at your reign:

"Did I make life better for the people who carried my name?"

Because somewhere in this country, a child is still hungry.

Somewhere, a mother is still worried.

Somewhere, a young man is still waiting for a chance.

And somewhere, a broken dream is still hoping to advance.

Mr. President, this is not just a letter from me;

It's a cry from the people you may never get to see.

I am Edward, from a random community,

Speaking for the forgotten, the struggling, and those living in uncertainty.

I am not asking you to make us rich overnight;

I am asking you to make survival less of a fight.

Give us a country where hope can breathe,

Where the poor can live, not merely exist.

And if this letter ever reaches your hand,

Please remember the people across this land.

For a nation's true greatness is not measured by its tallest tower,

But by how it protects its weakest in their darkest hour.

Good afternoon, Mr. President.

Thank you for listening to my voice.

Yours faithfully,

Edward S. Kamara

One voice from a random community, speaking for millions.

The message behind the poem.

"Mr. President, we are not asking for a perfect country. We are asking for a country where the ordinary person can afford an ordinary life. Where food is not a privilege, education is not a distant dream, and being young is not a punishment. We want to live, not merely survive."

© EDWARD S. KAMARA

-Sierra Leone

Edward S. Kamara’s “A Letter to the President” is a socially conscious and politically critical poem that exposes the harsh realities of poverty, unemployment, hunger, inadequate education, and poor healthcare in Sierra Leone. Through the voice of an ordinary citizen addressing the president, the poet highlights the struggles of vulnerable families, unemployed graduates, hungry children, and young people whose dreams are frustrated by the absence of opportunities. He calls on the government to move beyond empty promises and political speeches by providing basic necessities, employment, affordable education, accessible healthcare, and better living conditions. Although the poem expresses disappointment in leadership and the suffering of the masses, it also maintains hope for a better nation where everyone can live with dignity. Ultimately, the poem is a passionate appeal for responsible leadership, social justice, accountability, and a government that prioritises the welfare of its citizens, particularly the poor and disadvantaged.