Almost trodden.

We are a people standing on the trembling edge of obscurity,

Fragile now, nearly forgotten; fading into quiet erasure

Where once we stood proud, a majestic flame,

Burning bright with values carved from truth,

With riches not just of soil, but of soul.

Anchored in belief, integrity, and justice.

But shadows have crept into our light.

Corruption dances in the open,

Selfish ideologies choke our unity,

Modernity strips away the sacred,

And the people’s hearts beat quieter,

Numb to the loss of all we once held dear.

My art cries out with colors of resistance,

A call to rise from beneath the weight

Of tyrants in power, of prejudice sharpened like blades,

Of genocidal hands that scar our soil.

This is not mere protest, this is a plea for deliverance.

Let our voices rise like the river's roar,

They are the seeds of hope we cannot afford to bury.

Let heritage be not a memory, but a mantle reborn.

Let justice walk free again, unshackled

From the grasp of political puppeteers and twisted creeds.

Above all, let God reclaim the helm,

That we may be healed, restored, reborn.

Benue must live.

Not in silence, not in shadow,

But in the full brilliance of its truth.