Poems by Dr. Sabina Yeasmin

Gratitude
Dr. Sabina Yeasmin

The human heart is a silent mirror— shadows of kindness and neglect constantly float there.

In invisible lines is written the hidden history of life— a single act of kindness lights a lamp of light, ingratitude brings the long night of darkness.

Remember— the hand that sheltered you like refuge in the storm, the voice that in hardship pronounced your name like radiance— let not its memory be covered in dust.

Gratitude is not merely a word, it is a calm, profound music of the soul.

Just as a flower does not forget the touch of spring, just as a river does not forget the first affection of its source, so if a person forgets their debt, they themselves lose the direction of their inner world.

Ingratitude is a barren desert, where the stream of compassion no longer flows; and gratitude— a green, verdant garden, where memories bloom like flowers every day.

O human, remember— benevolence never disappears, it returns as fruit within time.

And the heart that remembers the light, darkness cannot block its path.

Empathy never fades— only that soul is lost which fails to remember it.

Even if words fade, gratitude remains, even if people pass away, their light does not fade.




A Poet’s Lament Beyond History
Dr. Sabina Yeasmin

I am not tired—I am wounded, torn apart by the sharp teeth of this world’s silent injustices.
Where the blood of merit disappears silently into the darkness of the soil, while the unworthy ignite festivals of fire in the sky.

I have seen—talent fall into the nameless dustbins of dark alleys, while fools wear crowns of emptiness and sit as kings. Truth—bowing to dust in tears, while falsehood—tramples it with crimson feet and rises to the peak of the throne.

The wise are silent today—their voices drown in the applause of the crowd; while the utterances of fools become the documents of time.

This world is an invisible market—where conscience is auctioned, honesty stands begging, and justice—becomes a forgotten echo.

I wanted to scream—but time borrowed my voice away. So I wrote in letters of blood.

If one day I am gone, if my name dissolves into dust, then these lines will testify—merit never dies—it merely pauses beneath unseen hands.

On the day I lie silent beneath the grave, even then this unspoken utterance will float in the air—this world was never built for the worthy.

And if one day justice returns—know this, it will not be my achievement alone; it will be the echo of thousands of silent voices, who, even outside history, have written it with their blood.






The Last Prayer of the Year
Dr. Sabina Yeasmin

The last light of the year fades slowly,
All our accounts remain deposited with time.

I stand before myself—
Searching for answers: what I lost, what I gained.

What I have lost teaches me,
What I have gained questions me—
Have I truly lived,
Or merely passed time?

Night descends—silent, deep, contemplative,
In this silence, the soul stands face to face with itself.
Mistakes rise before the eyes,
Yet hope teaches—one can begin again.

Time has broken me,
So I have learned to be strong,
It has cast me into emptiness—
And I have understood the meaning of fullness.

Not all loss is the end—
Some losses are new gains,
Not all darkness is death—
Some darkness is the beginning of a new dawn.

I pray—
May the new year make me a better human being,
May my identity be known through my deeds,
And may my pain become light for others.

The year ends, but life does not stop—
A new path begins again,
I move forward—
With the hope of rebuilding myself anew.



Bangladesh 🇧🇩 | Dr. Sabina Yeasmin
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