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One day I will make Syria my home
And one day my cup of tears will be gone.
When bullets have lost wings of flight
And bombs lost zips to unzip,	
Then I’ll speak freely
To hopes and failures-
Promising them a future
When justice will reign
And young speeches become bold.

One day I will make Nigeria my home,
And one day my thumb prints will speak.

When my hand writes freely
And my pen free to dance,
Then I’ll run home
And commit my days to change,
Kneel to her feet and
Obey her sister-‘RIGHTS’.

When my breathe pours out
Without my notice
And my heart beats
Without drum sounds,
Then my shadow
Will be seen in the open
And my voice will be
The picture of what
Ears want to love and
My pen the dancer of words
They’ll all love to watch perform.

One day I will make Somalia my home,
And one day ‘medium of exchange’ will be my train.
When black-faced flies surrender poisons of blindness
And masculine mosquitoes close down the courts of death,
Then you’ll find thousands
Of my feet on sand
And millions of speeches
On which the future germinates.

One day when Africa matures,
She will be the home of the world
Where people learn to love
And study how to care for the born and unborn.

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