A Call to Action; The Language of Silence – Two Poems By Nigerian Writer, Ahmed Aminu

A Call to Action

Midnight’s hunger pangs, a persistent ache
Fuel my resolve, a fire that won’t break
Rights denied, a brother’s heavy hand
Exam marks withheld, a teacher’s command

Injustice festers, a wound that won’t heal
Community trust shattered, politician’s steel
Embezzlement and corruption, people’s defeat
Manufacturer’s compromise, quality’s retreat

Neighbor’s tears, unaffordable care
A call to action, my heart declares
To heal the broken, soothe the pain
My dying wish, a doctor’s noble gain

With every challenge, a chance to make
A difference alive, for a better sake
If expertise is required, I’ll take the lead
Professions aside, my heart will proceed

To mend the fractured, comfort the worn
A better world, where all can thrive and born
Where equality and justice entwine
And freedom’s flame, forever will shine

Through darkness and strife, I’ll find my voice
A beacon of hope, a heartfelt choice
To stand for the oppressed, the marginalized too
And fight for their rights, with all I can do

With every step, a path unfolds
A journey of courage, where hearts are told
To rise above fear, to break the mold
And forge a new dawn, where love is gold

In this quest for justice, I’ll not be swayed
By obstacles or doubts that come my way
For I know that change, though slow, will come
And a brighter tomorrow, will be won

Through unity and strength, we’ll overcome
The barriers that divide, the hurt that’s done
And build a world where love and kindness thrive
Where every heart beats with hope alive.

The Language of Silence

I hold the threads of silence tight,
weaving tapestries of forgotten night.
In labyrinthine corridors of my mind,
I search for echoes left behind.

I am the cartographer of my own soul,
mapping paths where shadows unfold.
Through veils of mist, I glimpse my name,
in hollows where memories and dreams remain.

I am the bridge between two skies,
connecting worlds where darkness sighs.
In secret chambers of my heart,
a mysterious language takes its part.

I am the keeper of forgotten truths,
unsealing ancient scripts and hidden youths.
A door ajar, I glimpse inside,
a realm of dreams where symbols reside.

I am the echo that remains,
lingering whispers of forgotten refrains.
In the depths of night’s dark pool,
I stare into the face of my own soul.

I am the weaver of forgotten dreams,
threading fragments of forgotten themes.
In this labyrinth of mirrors I stand,
reflecting shadows, endless hands.