Esanland
I come from a land of wealth
not measured in gold,
but in the soil that remembers every footstep.
A land of green pastures, once promised
following with milk and honey.
A land where waterfalls comb the hairs of stones
and streams pulse like living veins,
flowing toward the heart of the earth.
A land spoken of in whispers as Eden reborn,
watered by grace,
blessed by God,
the heartbeat of Africa
born in Nigeria.
Esanland, the land of my people
Where the river speaks in riddles to the sun
and the sun answers with rain.
Where the wind carries the names of our ancestors,
guiding us home when paths disappear.
Where the tallest tree kneels before lightning,
and thunder does not threaten but gives hope
In the wet season, our hands toil the soil.
In the dry season,
we harvest joy from its abundance.
Esanland, the land of my people
A place I call home.
Home, where nene prayed for my mother,
and her words became a shield around my future
strengthened by my mother’s prayers,
two generations covering my tomorrow.
Double Blessing.
Home, where abba taught my father the language of sweat
under the sun’s stern gaze,
and my father taught me the power of pages,
placing a book in my hands.
Home, where what an elder sees sitting,
I can never see even from the highest mountain.
Home, where the masquerade dances,
and the veil between worlds grows thin,
for the spirits walk with us.
Esanland, the land of my people
A land without strangers,
where faces are learned before names,
and community is the language spoken.
Where drums travel farther than voices,
and gestures carry entire conversations.
Where love tastes like shared meals,
passed hand to hand, bowl to bowl.
A culture so rich it refuses borders,
echoing in all four corners of the world.
Esanland, the land of my people
My people are revered.
Our women move like poetry in motion,
beauty crowned with grace.
Our men stand as shields and pillars,
protectors carved from honor,
their character louder than their words.
Wherever we go,
we are recognized—
not by noise,
but by presence.
Esanland, the land of my people.
