By Shehu Mubarak Suleiman
Gamji said ‘Rise’ and you rose
Slowly, you became a sight to behold
You opened your legs
And birthed a President like Umaru
You rang your bells
And hundreds assembled
You opened the book
And flipped the pages
Dishing out wisdom all through the ages
You set the pace
And called others to follow
Your little eyes were set on tomorrow
Gamji said ‘Rise’ and you rose
Of all your beauty
Where shall I begin?
The busyness of your gates
Or the buildings from within?
The rise of your reigns
Some raging tides and regimes
Or all that fire
That has refused to be dimmed?
Words are lost in my mouth
To use in describing the
Wits you command
To use in painting a picture
Of the minds that you mould
And the legacy you still uphold
Come, tell me
What is your secret?
Teach me your religion
I’ll worship morning and night
Generations speak of your pedigree
How you stooped to give birth to colleges
How jaws drop on seeing your elegance
These words are not worthy
This ink is not enough
I stand today to sing your praise
Of lives you have touched from yesteryears
Of souls you have fed of your waters
Of children you have nurtured with your milk
Shall I talk about kings out of your orifice?
Or academics from all discipline
Shall I talk about the beauty of your edifice
Or the gratitude of all your pilgrims?
These walls know nothing like silence
Your laboratories are not for aesthetics
You flood your roads with seas of humanity
You have corridors of sin and profanity
Your libraries are headed for eternity
So, when you flap your wings, offsprings disperse
You shake your fur, and seekers emerge
You cry for help, and thousands appear
Many have sought shade under this umbrella
They brought you water
You sat and carved fountains
You met them as stones
In them, you built mountains
They walked to you as deserts
And you led them to oases
For thee is their refuge
And thee is their fort.
Shehu Mubarak Sulaiman is a Nigerian writer and a nurse
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