GAGGED BENEATH THE SCALES OF JUSTICE

There are moments when a nation falls into a heavy silence, a silence not born of peace, but of suppression; muffled moans of gaggedness.

In that stillness, you can almost hear the faint echo of a justice system once designed to protect, now reduced to a whisper struggling to survive.

Accountability, once the moral compass of leadership, feels buried beneath layers of impunity, and the people, resilient yet weary, stand at the margins, watching decisions made over their heads, as though their voices were mere background noise in the theatre of power.

It is easy to wonder how we arrived here, how a country with such brilliance and potential became a landscape where truth tiptoes and clarity is treated like a privilege.

Yet the mind knows this: every structure built on silence eventually trembles, Every injustice, no matter how concealed, accrues interest in the ledger of time.

So we breathe, We center our minds on the truth that no darkness lasts forever, We lean into the assurance that divine justice does not expire or retreat, it waits, it observes, it moves with precision, not haste.

And though the night feels long, the dawn carries its own certainty, a reckoning that arrives quietly, steadily, unfailingly.

Until then, we hold our peace not in resignation, but in strength, We anchor our hope not in men, but in the ONE whose judgments are uncorrupted and whose timing is perfect.

In this stillness, we remember: Nothing escapes the eyes of eternity, and every act, seen or unseen, will one day account for itself.