The Lion Girl Rises

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"The Poem Based on ethnic clashes between tribes like the Birta and Hausa in Blue Nile state"

In the heart of the wild where the sun burns low,

I met a lion girl with a revolutionary glow.
With fire in her laughter and storms in her stride,
She marched through the grasses where ancestors died.

Her hair, like a banner, unyielding and free,
A golden defiance that danced like the sea.
With each step she took, the ground knew her claim,
A drumbeat of justice, a whisper of flame.

No chains could contain her, no empire could bend
The will of the girl who would fight to the end.
She spoke not of dreaming, but of battles begun—
Of silenced traditions and work still undone.

Her voice was a weapon, sharp, clear, and strong,
It echoed the truths buried quiet too long.
She carried the rhythm of uprisings past,
Of women who rose — and who would not be the last.

But deep in the soil, where the blood once ran red,
Lay memories of stories they tried to leave dead.
The fields bore the scars of a history betrayed,
Of land torn asunder and futures delayed.

I asked of her struggle, of purpose and pain,
Of fighting for dignity stolen by chains.
"To admire is easy," she said with a stare,
"But to join in the fire, you must first bear the glare."

She spoke with a power no tyrant could mute,
A warrior in sandals, with roots deep in truth.
“To rise is to reckon,” she said with command,
“To speak for the voiceless, to take back our land.”

In the still of the dusk, with the sky painted wide,
She mapped out resistance with pride as her guide.
No need for approval, no need for the West—
She fought for her people, their truth, and their rest.

Her laughter, a battle cry breaking through fears,
Her dance, a revolt that had echoed for years.
Not just a girl, but a force in the wild,
A general, a sister, the earth’s burning child.

She taught me that freedom is earned by the brave,
By those who still fight from the edge of the grave.
That history bends when the lioness roars,
And justice is born when the silenced restore.

Now I carry her fire, her courage, her name—
The lion girl’s legacy, carved out of flame.
No longer just watching — I now walk beside,
In the march for our future, with unbroken pride.



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