Nigerian Tree

(Your Flowers Are Thorns too) O! Nigeria Your flowers are thorns, And thorns are your attire, When light comes, They laugh and smell. In the scorching noon, You wear the colour of sanes; And on the slate of the desert You inscribe your ‘thirst’ You’re an off-shoot of thirst Upon your head is a shawl Of smouldering sunlight, Patience bounds your body, As if the dry skin of silence Is stretched on your termite-eaten skeleton. O! Nigeria Your shade has been Scorched since your birth, The womb of which Gives birth to new mirages, Even in the rainy season, On seeing which, Brackish dreams spill from eyes. O! Nigeria The fruits you gave down Changed the promises they made They forgot the time you and Them were promosing to Build your inheritors.