Project 9ja Mag The Revolution. 1st Edition | Page 28

Project 9ja
For a mother whose offspring have so myriad tongues
Though many and different people they are, are on a cub of corn from where they
suckle from Mom
You are like the bridge that calls to mothers to sell their wares in the morning
Whispers to young lovers to rendezvous at the darker side of you at evening
A place that beckons on young men to come look at the moon while holding fires to
their mouths
A place old men reminisce about.
Someway, somehow, you mean something to all.
It is known for mothers to have dreams about their
kids; for their children.
But for this child of yours, he dreams for you - for
what he hopes you'd grow to be.
We learnt from those who usurped your place
And called themselves after your name
That we hadn't a name before a man
christened us from the Niger area
But you have called us all from all
corners of your beautiful landscape to
a brotherhood
May your children love you and each
other with heart, might and soul
This is my prayer
A dream surely probable.
I dreamt you danced and joyfully
wept when these sons and daughters
of yours
Who had created chasms between
tribes, cultures, religious inclinations,
political preferences
Had used a balm from Gilead to salve all
ulcers and open wounds.
Healing.
Let the land we call mother, you
Birth within us a love so pure, so undefiled,
incorruptible, for kith and kin
And let our minds not be afraid to dream and hope, think
and build
Challenge the accepted norm that makes us less than we
are –
Human.
MAGAJI ADUKU ISHAKU
Aduku Magaji
adukumagaji
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