Not My Nigeria Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

Not my Nigeria that is dead among them.
Not my Nigeria that is downtrodden,
Not my Nigeria that those helpless children
Are littered here and there like grains.
Not my Nigeria that I saw with a broken
Lips but pretends that all is well in a well.


Not in my Nigeria that those birds without
Songs are seen walking armful with arsenals
Not my Nigeria that Once stood gallantly,
but now mocked by dwarfs who knocks publicly on her...
We've waited so long, here is the season
Of our song which hang in our throats.


The Nigeria I know has no grave that
Never get satisfied nor earth that clamour
For more, not my Nigeria that is useless!
She is among notable notabilities on earth,
She is not in a deserted desert land as you think.
In her are bags pregnant with cash and wisdom.


Not my Nigeria that I see with a mournful song,
No! Not my Nigeria, not my Nigeria in abyss!
Tell the new born sun that Nigeria is great!
Tell the birthed wind that her mother is a warrior,
Our mother is a saviour; Saviour of the blacks.
She has learnt to be a mighty woman among all.


Not my Nigeria you see without eyes and nose,
She still see those embezzling in her well,
She still perceive the aroma of her children.
The Lines she outlined her feet are still there,
She is not missing, no! My Nigeria is not!
Not my Nigeria you see among those thieves there.
She has been lull away to new dreams and love.


Let Nigeria be Nigeria again not in a dream.
Let the silence of loneliness loot not her pride.
Not my Nigeria that is beaten hands down,
Not my Mother that is seen barking in the
Street like a mad dog chasing after nothing.
My Nigeria will overcome all this someday
When we gather to make Her Nigeria again.



(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016