WEDNESDAY, 1ST OCTOBER, 2025. A CELEBRATION OF HOPE

By Gbadero, Rukaya Abike
She’s the celebrant,
Nigeria, mother fierce and kind,
With a blood of strength, our endless pride,
A nation of her Ominira to Ayenira,
Her excellency, though battered, is still remembered at 65.

Nigeria, the celebrant,
Green and white still have her complexion,
She wears the scars of borrowed time, 
Counting burdens, battle honoured, not her gain.
Niger Area, we hail thee,
Though tribe and tongue differ,
Through pain, we search for morning light.

Nigeria in the midst of nations, she stands,
Her world-builders, peanuts pay for their noble art.
Here, she stands at 65,
Still in search of breath,
Each day rises to mourn the same,
What is the irony of a banner without stain?
At 65, still hoping to rise,
Better still, she crawls, yet dreams to fly,
A dear native land asked to serve with all her might, yet drained.

She, the celebrant,
Sits with no stamina on bags of hope.
Where country's beauty in tattered kite, 
Inflation bites, unemployment serve,
That hunger grips her teachers' heart,
Dreams dissolve before eyes so wide,
All watching, not with yawning mouths, nor with broken sight,
Her youth flee with wings beyond her borders.
Insecurity hunt, corruption wrap.

Behold, the celebrant,
At 65, fragile as a tattered kite,
Still tossed day to day of promises unmet,
But indelible in the heart of her children,
Who refuse to stop believing she will heal.

Nigeria, we hail thee.
At 65, glowing with songs of hope to see joy coming,
 From Lagos vibes to Minna's dance,
Her name, all proud to serve,
Our endless pride, hoping to see no man oppressed,
In brotherhood, we seek to stand,
Finding solace in hope to lay our stand.

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