Tears Water the Seeds of Change

My Dearest Hearts,

The news fluttered into the living room like a wounded bird, its message sharp and unsettling. You, my brave, beautiful children, are planning a march to Parliament. My stomach churns with a cocktail of worry and pride. You, my Gen Z warriors, are ready to take up arms, not of steel and teargas, but of righteous anger and hopeful hearts.

I see the fire in your eyes, the flicker of the same rebellious spirit that burned in our president’s gaze when he was your age. He, too, marched – not towards a grand building of power, but towards a faraway bush, a land promising glory and a chance to fight for something bigger. But war, my loves, is a cruel teacher. The only glory he found was the day the fighting stopped, the day the world outside his nightmares became reality again.

He, like you, marched for change. He believed in a future where hope bloomed amidst the ruins. But the cost, oh the cost! The years of corruption, the haunted dreams, the way he’d sometimes flinch at a sudden car horn, a reminder of a world forever changed.

And now, here you stand, on the precipice of your own march. I understand your frustration. The world you see is far from perfect. The promises made by those in power seem to crumble at the touch of reality. The cost of living threatens to suffocate your dreams, and the corruption crisis casts a long, ominous shadow on your future. You see the injustices, the inequalities, and you refuse to be silent.

That, my darlings, is what makes me so incredibly proud. You refuse to inherit a broken world without a fight. You march not for glory, but for a future where your children can breathe clean air, where their dreams have a fighting chance, where fairness is not a fleeting dream but a lived reality.

My heart aches with worry, yes. The world can be a harsh place, and those in power often have deaf ears. But alongside the worry, there’s a fierce, unwavering hope. You see, my brave soldiers, your spirit is a testament to the enduring power of human resilience. You are the generation that inherited both the scars of the past and the seeds of a better tomorrow.

This march, my loves, is more than just a walk towards a building. It’s a declaration. A declaration that you will not be ignored, that your voices will be heard, that your demands for a just world will not be silenced.

There will be tears, my precious ones. There might be moments of frustration, of feeling unheard. But remember, the most important battles in history have been won not with brute force, but with unwavering conviction and the power of collective spirit. You are not alone. Thousands of others will walk beside you, hearts beating in unison, voices rising in a powerful chorus of change.

Go then, my darlings, with your courage as your shield and your dreams as your weapon. March on, not with the weight of the past, but with the unwavering hope of the future you carry within you. And when the tears come, as they inevitably will, know that they are not tears of defeat, but tears of resilience, tears that water the seeds of change you are planting…

With all my love,

Your ever-proud brutha.