Memories of the White Republic
I remember my candles in the night
My eyes heavy but weightless like light
The thought of being a corper my right
A pound on my head boom boom
The thud of boots and whistle boomerang
Shrill cries like a community gone agog
Soldiers and man o wars on the work
Kaaki and boots stroll under the wilderness
As I drench myself in the reflection of morning parade
Then I wake up to the reality of being a soldier, even though my tired feet struggle for survival in the hands of code 1 and code 2
Like a wrestler contesting the royal rumble
I have been stressed, squeezed like a rug left on the floor to rumple
My enduring and persevering heart whispers
The sweet chants of one day we will go
Yes indeed we will go, not as we were but as gallant soldiers of the NYSC
I swim in the pool of events
Tiring as it is, I must make it
This is the reality, I have always wanted
Lectures were made on white and black
Skills were taught on the block
Food and love shared on the clock
Uncertainty looms in the horizon
When the bugle of farewell blows on the 26th of March to another hurdle
On which side of Cross River will I march
Calabar,Ikom,Ogoja,
Good soldier that I am
I must go
Kopas we we we
Kopas wa wa wa
What faith befalls you on Tuesday
Take it with wa wa wa
This is the reality we have always wanted
Our dream and long desired expectation
Have finally unfolded into its oblivion of extinction
Let us awaken ourselves to the reality of serving our fatherland
Author: Ginikachi Nnadozie Obah
Copyright © Ginikachi Obah | Year Posted 2017
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