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