My Pen, My Voice Poem by Augustine Ogechukwu Nwulia

Betraying my muteness,
exposing my thoughts,
breaking my silence,
like a hermits' chronicle.

Alienating my wishy-washy state,
provoking a consciousness.
Breaking the yoke of fear,
stirs up a doggedness.
With an askance glance,
a nefarious activity is detected.

In truth, we stand!
In wisdom, we believe! !
In lines and verses, we speak! ! !

Gazing at the sky,
casting my mind back,
Oh! Rabeeya's thoughts...
'A writer is a human being,
trying to create places,
between words and spaces'.

I do it for the people,
I do it for the depressed,
I do it for the downtrodden,
I do it for those folks who still believe in redemption,
I do it for love,
I do it for humanity.

Holy thy pen,
mightier than sword,
soaked in wisdom,
possessed with power.

To say that the ink is dry,
is an abjure of moral allegiance;
an abuse of elementary divine-ordinance.

With an exceptional effulgence,
it echoes my thoughts.
My ink, my voice!