Elegy For A Nation - A Lament And A Call Poem by Saidu Garba

History shall speak… not of years alone,
But of how a people lost their throne.
Of how gold flowed, and honor fled,
While tyrants feasted, and truth lay dead.

He came not with fire, nor sword in hand,
Yet kings bowed low in every land.
They paved his path with silken thread,
And from their hands, their treasures bled.

A stranger once, now crowned as chief,
Their fear of him outgrew belief.
No lion roared, no eagle cried—
The desert's pride had long since died.

The scholars watched with eyes turned low,
Their voices chained, their courage slow.
The dancers came with painted face,
And womanhood shed all its grace.

Not gifts of love — but gifts of shame,
From lands that once bore Islam's name.
The jizyah paid, not forced, but craved,
In hopes the tyrant's wrath be waived.

He sat where heroes once would stand,
And armies waited for his command.
The traitor kissed his bloodstained hand,
And offered up a sacred land.

Where now the men of battle-scarred days?
Where now the fire of Badr's blaze?
Of Sa'd, of Khalid, Al-Qa'qa's might—
Have they all vanished into night?

O people of Qur'an and prayer,
Will you not rise? Will none still care?
The Ka'bah weeps beneath the stars,
While idols reign behind gold bars.

This is no statecraft, no defense—
It is the death of common sense.
A fall so deep, so wide, so bare,
That even angels weep in air.

But still... a verse revives our breath,
A promise shining after death:
'If you turn back, a new shall rise—
Beloved by God, with fearless eyes.
They'll love the truth, and stand as one,
Unmoved by blame, till justice's done.'

So rise, O hearts not yet enslaved,
The path of prophets must be paved.
Revive the land of Revelation's light—
And walk again in truth and right.