Roots

by Lansana Sesay

Adulthood is a quiet storm—

the kind our parents shielded us from.

They bore the weight so we could rise,

now we wear it, chasing skies.

I am the first cap and gown,

a legacy born from hand-me-downs.

Master’s earned, no shortcuts taken,

yet the ground beneath me still feels shaken.

I do it right, stay out of trouble,

yet life won’t let me burst my bubble.

No stable path, no golden gate,

just waiting rooms and jobs that wait.

The dream they sold us feels surreal—

a game of handshakes, charm, and zeal.

It’s not just work, it’s who you know,

a system where true seeds grow slow.

Ten times harder, I still grind,

while others rise with half the mind.

But here’s the truth that keeps me warm:

God made me strong to brave the storm.

I am no quitter, I don’t bend—

I walk with purpose, not pretend.

And though I’m last now in this race,

the first shall wait, and I’ll take place.

To those who feel the same despair,

I see you, I’ve been standing there.

Your time is coming—mark these days,

as training ground for higher praise.

Steward small, prepare for more,

humble hearts unlock the door.

The real ones grow beneath the earth,

their power hidden, roots give birth.

You don’t always see their might—

they toil in silence, out of sight.

But when the sprout breaks through the soil,

you’ll see the proof of all that toil.

So hold the line, embrace the weight,

your bloom is near—just watch, just wait.

Strong foundation, soul refined—

what’s yours will come, in God’s own time.

Born in Freetown, Sierra Leone, Lansana Sesay holds a BS in Communication from Bowie State University and a Masters in Strategic Communications at the University of Maryland Global Campus. Sesay is passionate about entrepreneurship and community service and has expressed himself through poetry and spoken word showcases since 2014. Sesay also finds joy in art, cooking, adventure, and exploring new places.