By Adewusi Aisha
Tomorrow sits quietly
at the edge of my bed,
asking nothing,
yet expecting everything.
It borrows my sleep,
fills my pockets with questions,
and teaches my heartbeat
to count possibilities.
I carry dreams
like fragile glass,
careful not to drop them
on the hard floor of doubt.
Some days,
the road stretches farther
than my courage can see,
and even the sun
seems unsure of my name.
But seeds
do not apologize
for taking time.
Rivers
do not rush
to prove they are moving.
The moon
wears its scars
without hiding its light.
So I gather
every broken promise,
every unanswered prayer,
every silent goodbye,
and build a staircase
toward becoming.
If fear follows,
let it walk behind me.
If failure calls,
let it echo
without becoming my language.
I was never created
to bloom
only when the weather agrees.
I will rise
through ordinary mornings,
through crowded streets,
through lonely nights
where hope feels expensive.
Tomorrow is not a mountain
waiting to defeat me.
It is a door
and every step I take today
is already
turning the handle.
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