Daughters of Quiet Dominion

 Yoruba are the roots of many rising things,

A people where the first light often springs.
Where culture is crafted, where ideas ignite,
Where Nigeria finds her voice, her face, her sight.
Yorubaland hub of thought and creation,
A cradle of craft, a forge of innovation.
Yet beneath this brilliance, steady and strong,
Are women whose praises have lingered too long.
They stirred the pot, yet shaped a nation,
Turned simple seeds to sustenance and sensation.
Amala smooth, Ewedu’s stream,
Egusi rich like a woven dream.
Akara rising, golden and bright,
Moi moi wrapped, soft with delight.
Jollof rice glowing, seasoned with flame,
Iyan beaten with rhythm and name.
From humble hands came heritage deep,

Flavors that generations keep.
Measured not by tools, but by knowing,
A quiet art of giving and growing.
Cloth became culture beneath their art,
Patterns that whisper, fabrics that speak.
Dyed in wisdom, stitched with pride,
Histories hidden in every tide.
They did not wait to be seen or heard,
They moved in silence, yet shaped the world.
Where doors were closed, they carved a way,
Turning night into a rising day.
From healing hands to halls of might,
From pens that write to screens that light,
They told the stories, they framed the scenes,
They built the bridges behind the dreams.
From stages small to global gaze,
They shaped the screen in countless ways.
Stories rooted in soil and soul,
Now travel far, now make us whole.
In distant lands, their strength expands,
Across new skies, on foreign sands.
In banks, in labs, in coded streams,
They carry forth enduring dreams.
They rise, they lead, yet still remain,
Bound to their roots through loss and gain.
They shape the now, they guard the old,
Their worth is vast, their story untold.
For while the world applauds the flame,
It seldom speaks the hidden name.
Yet truth remains, both firm and clear 
Their silent strength has brought us here.
Yorubaland shines, a radiant flame,
But women have kindled that enduring name.
They are the force, the unseen hand,
The quiet power that built the land.