<a href="Weaving the Threads“>
Significantly applauding the efforts,
of the men who made her
Trenching the fields of natives
to expose her poles,
she has become the giant of Africa
defeating hierarchy to yield democracy.
The road to my Nigeria is patched
like the sandflies that bites your skin
evil men have bitten her skin to sour
grinding all the goodness of her hands
leaving her in confusion and corruption
her glory is breeding downfall in abyss.
The riches of her land surpasses treasures
yet she strives to gain what she already had,
loosing all to nothing, and nothing to nothing.
Do not blame her, she was deceived by the trusted
they make promises they can not keep
they forget the masses once they get hold of her.
Now she is struggling to regain the lost glory
she still stands out, but she is covered in shame
her standing is clawed on greed and impotence
the vastness of her blossom is much better than this
she is weeping and waiting for the pure in mind
to pick her up and water her to grow in strength
Peace and unity she echoes in the forest
like green, her motives were planted to grow
but evil plowed it down to hay and sewage
hope is not lost, she believes in her children
‘soon I will be in my rightful palace
it depends on you and I’ she says
I urge my fellow Nigerians to vote wisely on Saturday, the 28th of March. Although I think the options we have are paraded gold, vote for who you think is right…
By Ruth Brodrick