Our land bleeds, its heart heavy with sorrow, a mother mourning for her lost children – children lost to ignorance, manipulated by the puppeteers of division. Once, we thrived in unity, our spirits intertwined in a tapestry of love and respect. But now, that tapestry is torn, shredded by the blades of greed and hatred.
Gangsters have plundered our heritage, leaving us to grapple with the remnants of what was. They’ve tainted our air with bitterness, poisoned our hearts with distrust. The love that once bound us has been shattered, its fragments scattered by the winds of discord. Religion and tribalism, once sources of strength, are now twisted into tools of oppression.
Our land is bleeding, its dreams of greatness drowned in a sea of suffering. Once a beacon of hope, it now stands as a testament to human cruelty. Our fields, where children once played, are now fields of despair. Our rivers, which once flowed with life, now run red with the blood of the innocent.
Our collective patrimony has been taken away by gangsters. Our air is filled with hate and bitterness; the love we once shared has fled from us. Religionism and tribalism are the vices used by the gangsters to weaponize us against one another. Our land that ought to be the pride of the world is now the center of bloodshed, plagued with hunger and starvation. Our fields, once lush with promise, now lie barren, soaked in the tears of the hopeless and the cries of the destitute. The rivers, once pure and life-giving, are now tainted with the blood of innocent souls lost to senseless violence.
Oh, our mother, oh my children, how long shall we keep crying? How long shall we endure this torment? When shall we be free from the hands of these oppressors who have stripped us of our dignity and our future? If not now, when? How many more lives must be shattered before we rise? Though our languages may differ, our hearts beat with the same desire for freedom.
It is time to rise, to reclaim what is rightfully ours, to build a society where justice prevails, where every soul is valued, and the rule of law is our guiding light. Imagine a land where the sun rises on fields of golden grain, where children laugh and play freely, unburdened by fear. Picture a nation where our mothers can nurture their young in peace, where our fathers can work the land with pride, and our elders can share their wisdom without sorrow. This vision is within our grasp, but we must fight for it.
We must cast aside the chains of division and mistrust. We must recognize that our strength lies in our unity, in our shared humanity. Let us banish the shadows of hatred and bitterness, let us heal the wounds that have torn us apart. Together, we can create a land where hope reigns supreme, where love is our guiding star.
Oh, our land, our beautiful, bleeding land, hear our plea. Let us rise from the ashes of despair, let us reclaim the glory that is rightfully ours. For the sake of our children, for the honor of our ancestors, for the promise of a brighter tomorrow, we must stand together. The time is now. Let us begin the journey towards healing, towards freedom, towards a future where our land is no longer bleeding but blooming with life and love.
Ogidi, a visually impaired person writes from Ondo state, SW, Nigeria.
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