The Buried Voice
Written by Aishat Adewoyin The Buried Voice I expressed myself without being told. When they express theirs, I validate. When I express mine, I’m told I’m childish. Even in the wailing of a child, His mother hears the need beneath the cry. She reaches out, “I’m here, my little one.” But from my corner, I wailed, I shouted. Yet all I heard was my own echo. In my mind, I dug a grave, Burying my voice alive. I vowed never to speak again. What’s the point when words fall into silence? My voice is gone. It’s gone. It’s gone. Aishat Adewoyin ✍️
