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Student @ Ahmadu Bello University Zaria
Silent Conversations
<p>Silent Conversations</p><p>Some words never leave our lips.</p><p>They sit heavy in the air, thick with what we cannot risk saying.</p><p>They live in the tremble of hands that hover and withdraw,</p><p>in eyes that meet and look away,</p><p>in hearts that break quietly while the world keeps moving.</p><p>We carry entire lifetimes in these silences.</p><p>The love we couldn’t declare.</p><p>The anger we swallowed because it would have shattered everything.</p><p>The regrets we fold into ourselves like fragile letters we’ll never send.</p><p>Sometimes we scream in these silences,</p><p>and the echoes die inside us before anyone else can hear.</p><p>Home smells of palm oil and burning firewood,</p><p>the sweet sharpness of fresh pepper in soup,</p><p>the laughter of cousins chasing one another across dusty courtyards.</p><p>These are the silent conversations of memory,</p><p>the ones that live in the spaces between past and present,</p><p>where joy and grief sit side by side,</p><p>and you realize the people who shaped you are still teaching you</p><p>even when they’re gone.</p><p>We forgive without applause.</p><p>We love without reciprocity.</p><p>We grieve in private rooms while the world moves on, oblivious.</p><p>We hold dialogues that no one else can join </p><p>glances that carry whole sentences, sighs that weigh like stories,</p><p>and voices that catch in our throats before they can speak.</p><p>Sometimes, the people who should understand the most</p><p>are deaf to the nuances of our hearts.</p><p>The words we need them to hear</p><p>are swallowed by silence,</p><p>and the weight lands squarely on our own shoulders.</p><p>Yet there is a power here, quiet and relentless.</p><p>The power to endure what no one else can.</p><p>The courage to exist in your own truth even when the world denies it.</p><p>The resilience to carry what cannot be shared.</p><p>The grace to forgive yourself</p><p>for needing what no one could give.</p><p>Silent conversations are dangerous,</p><p>but they are sacred.</p><p>They are where we confront the deepest parts of ourselves.</p><p>Where we wrestle with love, with longing, with memory.</p><p>Where we learn that surviving — really surviving </p><p>is less about being heard,</p><p>and more about hearing ourselves,</p><p>and finally understanding:</p><p>the soul listens best when no one else is speaking.</p>
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