Dry your tears, our dear beloved Borno
For every ebb, there must absolutely be flow
Living witness, I am that in patience you’ve grown
Had never been forever stayed in this world
Something that will never be ceasing to flow
Thus, your tragedy shall not everlastingly go
Stability, and security once again you shall know
And the peace you craved before you shall bow
Your potentials and endowments once again shall grow
Your wealth you shall regain so soon at cockcrow
Dry your tears, our dear beloved Borno
The time has almost come close to eyebrows
When none can spill your innocent childrens’ blood
When your emblem of peace back to you shall go
When the wildest folks shall soon pay all the blood
Of your beloved children which they made to flow
In villages, towns, and harmlets against evil-prowl
And furious blood-thirst which forces them to growl
In the name of religion: a statement Without back-up
From any scripture other than that of the wild-cows
Dry your tears, our dear beloved Borno
The Lord has listened to your cry and your tears shan’t ignore
The river which by brown-blood of your children was fouled
Can’t be forgotten let alone the well Into which their corpses thrown
Like a bunch of rags or one could say were garbage Into dustbin thrown
We forgot not the carnage on your innocent children that was launched
In Bama, Baga, Konga, and the heatless slaughter in banished by your foes
Rest assured has listened to your cry and your tears shall not ignore
The one in the above so high before whom all creatures must bow
Your brutish foes must pretty soon before him to be brought
To be charged for their deeds, bottomless hellfire may them be thrown
Dry your tears, our dear beloved Borno
Your children from humiliation to dignity shall be brought
Out of IDPs camps, silly-willy shall soon all of them go
Back to farm with a cutlass, rake, sickles, ax, and hoe must go
In peace and tranquility, your children school must soon all go
Life will turn for the better even it is against the will of your foe
Files of traumatic ordeals we gathered shall soon be bygone
Our deprived Independence shall soon be regained and owned
From impoverished to rich we shall all must soon be rolled
Even if sub-human humans hate it and to it will bemoan
An unavoidable Sad fact: we like tenants are in this little world
Mohammed Usman is a writer who was born in Maiduguri Borno state of Nigeria. He Educated in Maiduguri right from primary school up to tertiary. His sense of fun begins at literature.
