Poem: Rise Up, Keep the Yoruba Flame Hear the drum, it calls us near, A voice from past, forever clear. Yoruba language, strong and bold, A treasure deep, more precious than gold. Once it filled the streets and fields, In every word, our spirit heals. Now its whispers start to fade, Lost in time, in shadows laid. If we look away today, The words we know may slip away. Like leaves that fall in autumn’s chill, The language dims, grows faint and still. The stories told by those before, The songs and lessons, myths and more, Could vanish like a dream at dawn, Leaving silence where life once shone. If homes grow quiet, words unsaid, If parents speak a tongue instead That leaves behind our roots and past, The culture’s light will not long last. If schools forget to teach and share, If young hearts find no place to care, The richness in our voice will fade, A future lost, a price we’ve paid. Our history held within each phrase, In Yoruba’s sound, in olden ways, Is more than just the words we speak— It’s who we are, the strong and meek. Without these words, we lose a part Of all that shapes our mind and heart. We risk a world where youth forget The pride and strength our past beget. So rise up now, before it’s late, Renew the language, guard its gate. Speak Yoruba loud, speak Yoruba proud, Let it soar above the crowd. Teach the young, share every line, Keep alive the ties that bind. From home to school, in every place, Let Yoruba hold its honored space. The flame is ours to hold and tend, To guard this gift, to pass, defend. Or else the silence will reclaim— The fading song, the dying flame.
Share this with everyone you know!! Spread the message! Remix! Poem made by me @99QuietKid I am an animator and writer so please check out other projects
