When the pot no longer sings on the fire,
And the market hums a sorrowful tune,
When mothers sigh and fathers grow weary,
Shall the land not shudder in pain?
The river does not ask why the rain delays,
It only longs for the heavens to weep.
The soil does not seek empty promises,
Only the tender hands of nourishment.
A bird does not beg the wind to be kind,
It only prays for a branch to hold.
So must the weary hands of the people,
Find comfort in the arms of leadership.
Gold does not shine in the dark of despair,
And wealth is barren where hunger dwells.
A leader’s worth is not in the echoes of his name,
But in the quiet prayers of the comforted.
Shall the tree withhold shade from the weary,
Or the shepherd count only the strong?
Shall the sailor fold his arms at sea,
Hoping the storm will hush itself to peace?
The market does not trade in rhetoric,
Nor does the hungry feast on promises.
A father’s love is measured in bread,
Not in the echoes of his intentions.
The sun does not argue with the night,
It rises because dawn must come.
A nation does not thrive on mere wishes,
But on hands that build and hearts that serve.
What is a throne if it sits in a house of despair?
What is power if the people still weep?
To lead is not to watch from afar,
But to walk among those who stumble.
The streets murmur, the fields are silent,
The cries of the people rise like smoke.
Shall those who hold the staff of power,
Turn their gaze from the burning earth?
What joy is there in palaces of gold,
When the streets are flooded with sorrow?
A king is not crowned by the weight of his robe,
But by the light he brings to his people.
The child who sleeps on an empty stomach,
Does not dream of grandeur or might.
He dreams of a world where justice is bread,
And mercy flows like an endless river.
Oh, that the winds of wisdom may blow,
That hearts may awaken to the people’s sighs.
For power is fleeting, like mist in the dawn,
But compassion is the legacy that never fades.
The storm is rising, the clock is ticking,
The people are waiting, their patience is thin.
Let wisdom prevail, let duty speak,
For the weight of silence is far too great.
What stirred my soul to craft these verses? A moment of profound dismay—when a revered don, a man of intellect and stature, reached out to me penultimate day with a desperate plea for financial assistance. His message was not one of academic discourse but of raw survival. No food on his table, his three-year-old son crying in hunger, his dignity hanging by a fragile thread. A harrowing reflection of a system teetering on the brink, where even the minds that illuminate society are not shielded from the darkness of deprivation.
People are dying ooooo! Hunger is ravaging homes, despair is tightening its grip! Let all those in power (from federal to state to local governments) rise—urgently, proactively, decisively! The time for delay is over; the cries of the people can no longer be ignored. Do something, do it now, ooooo!
