How did this prized jewel become dim?
A once beautiful virgin that sparkled amongst her fellows;
Sunken under pressure from her peers
I saw her deep brown skin; like fertile soil,
That had seeds planted in her for good;
For the future of her children, she stood
Tried, fought off unwanted demons of a hundred years
Yes! She was the cynosure of the foreign,
Many lovers flocked around her fortress for reign,
Their hopes wild, for selfish ravishing,
Their hearts danced in sight of her oily plumpness,
Her borders; they wished to traverse daily,
Etching their footprints on her burrowed tribal landmarks;
From her head to her toe, crossing her middle belt
Adumaradan, was then swooned by false praises,
She loved the reflection her sneaky visitor gave her,
Joyfully, she danced, with her hands in theirs; tightly locked,
She then yearned naively for her flower to be plucked.
Willingly, her Niger River of wealth parted,
Her suitors flocked, paddled: criss-crossing her; they divide,
Her soil was trampled upon; footprints telling stale tales
Her plumpness, sucked with unfulfilling promises,
Her Oloibiric veins became blackened; rusted from the scorch
Who placed Adumaradan on this fiery oven to bake?
Where is that baker who promised her fine flour and dough?
Who left her dried and darkened like overcooked palm kernel?
Where are those fake foxes that shot her womb with a bow?
Her eyes are now sunken, like the eclipse; no shine
Her offspring greedily gathered to fan the embers still,
Oh, Adumaradan, your throat is now parched,
Your tongue, now stuck to the roof of your mouth,
Your once gushing river of greatness now trickles from your eyes,
The animals in your farm have all gone wild;
Fighting themselves in the course for power,
Your lifespan, shortening slowly
Now menstrous, bleeding like a badly raped virgin,
Your body brutally gashed; and your suitors fleeing,
Leaving you to bleed, and then die,
Burnt, and your ashes blown as chaff gift to the wind
Adumaradan, nevertheless, I still see you; a beauty,
Your tribal marks connecting your sons and daughters,
Your breasts full and firm, giving suck to your children in wisdom,
I still see your independence smile caressing your face,
And this will continually happen for a while
I still see the sun shine; rising above your Bantu knotted hair,
The sun, when it is setting on your firmly rooted feet.
I still see your land green, your eagles aiming higher,
And your horses whinnying at your strength;
For this, you’ll remain a prized jewel: shinning
That beautiful virgin, whose brown skin,
Tells the tale of a beautiful nation;
Adumaradan, you’ll remain my Nigerian pride,
And forever be that shiny, dark skinned African bride.
Picture Source: http://princessdemioke.me/10-nigerian-makeup-artists-need-follow-instagram/