Nigeria at 62: My people my home

Nigeria at 62: My people my home


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Oh! I gasp for breath As I pen this down

It is sixty two full years my people

The place we call home is mature

Her maturity shows in her eyes

She is quiet, as she plans her future

She gazes at the sky with long a thought


Why is she this way a generation born too close would ask,

Why is she too gentle, she is not doing anything,

She is loosing her children, those she fed from the scratch, they are leaving

She is loosing them to the west,

Why is she too quiet.



If you have seen a woman who lost a child before

She doesn't speak, but she bleeds inside, but strong on the outside

Her creator made her that way to chest every darts from the past and the future.


My people, our mother counts on us to revive our home

She waits patiently with silent prayers to her creator.

She asks that nobody forgets her exploits

The way she fought all distractions in the past and moved from strength to strength

She is aware that you have to ability to build you home

She waits patiently.


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