I go to bed hungry every night. I do not sleep; I am afraid, afraid of not surviving the night, afraid that I will not see the dawning of tomorrow, to not see the light of day. I have heard of wonders across sea and land where some people have more money than countries, and where they eat three times a day from silver platters. And I have heard how they think of themselves as important because of this. I do not care. But I do know that anyone is just as important as any king or queen or billionaire. Everyone deserves a home, a meal, and education. Everyone has the right to a life.
 
I barely make it through the day. But I keep hanging on. I want to be there when food is given to my people. I want to see my people smiling, I want to see them working in fertile lands instead of a desert everyday. My world without constant sunshine everyday, with water, a world of happiness, a world of smiles. The right to speak my mind. I have my ways of living, but most of all I have a life. I see illness and I see death but still I see hope. Clinging on to those delicate gold threads, strong but none you can depend on. Threads of hope that are slowly slipping away.
 
If I had a say, if I were considered important, I would do anything in my power to do something about poverty and hunger. I would let the poor countries keep their food; I have seen trucks of the rich ones carry it away. I would give money to research to find ways to predict and prevent natural disasters and learn how to take advantage of them. I would give children the possibility to go to school. I might not live to see the light of tomorrow, but when I close my eyes for the last time I will have this picture I my head.