The rise of a giant

Days of obscurity and fear pioneered the tender cause,
Days of low tones and hush voices lingered in the air,
Days of despise and refutation persisted,
Days of humiliation and persecution ensued,
Days of seemingly endless tribulations stood still,

The pride of kinship and tribe paramount,
The fear of being stripped of power held awhile heightened,
The disdain of a kinsman turn around intensifies,

In trifles the weak and the lame moved away,
In great anticipation they sought asylum,
In a heated bout of debate they escaped the claws of the villains in great Abyssinia,
In harmony they were let to reside therein the foreign land,

Days pass by and the inspiration permitted a public declaration,
Days grew slowly into months and opposition intensified,
Days can be intriguing when kinsmen be compelled to camp outside their city’s gates,
Like the pain form a king cobra’s fang, the hearts of the oppressed hurt awhile,

Death took away the jewel of the desert at these trying times,
Dear and near she was to the leader of this young course,
Dire anguish and pain transcends the fulcrum of the tender struggle,

Great news came from kinsmen afar,
Glad tidings and pleasant pledges abound,
Geared to help tribal feuds desist and lead the united souls to light,

Thereafter, wars, battles and sabotages became the norm,
The young lion curb has now grown strong with a beautiful mane,
The tempo denotes a state as thus; sometimes they won sometimes they lost,

Patience and unshaken faith the young and fragile state held onto as a survival recipe,
People trooping in from near and afar,
Pledging allegiance to a just and transparent course,
Paradigm shift from slave to master unveiled,
Plunging the proud and the pompous into the ditch of regrets,

Like the pipers tune tempo the loyal were drawn to gather,
Like a large hive of bees an army thus commandeth,
Like a roaring storm they marched towards the cradle,
Like a baby’s bed, their once forsaken hometown is the cradle,
The root of the virgin religion they march to conquer,

Ten thousand man March to render, a once fierce enemy asunder,
The glorious march struck awe into the hearts of the oppressors,
The expectation for vengeance? Was snuggled by a faith so compassionate,
The show of mercy and empathy engulfed the conquest,

Humility and praise to God transcends the city,
Victory and great heart contentment was the order,
The little lion curb then weak and frail, now strong and fearsome has thus come to conquer,
The rise of a giant once a midget,
The dream once suppressed a secret has now come to be real,
Arise! Arise! Arise the giant!, because victory is yours now to ponder.

Muhammad tijjani nakande , a freelance writer, a neo pan African can be reached online at www.muhammadnakandesworld.blogspot.com or email him at memzycool@yahoo.com