When the City Speaks

The city keeps a different kind of prayer, One built from horns, footsteps, and tired laughter. It speaks in broken lamplight and the stubborn rhythm of people still choosing to rise. If I listen closely, I hear a thousand small acts of courage: The trader balancing his accounts, The mother waking before dawn, The student carrying dreams in a borrowed notebook. And even in the noise, there is still a tender kind of mercy.