Triumphs in all odds

By Atok Dan

In all the odds, he triumphed,

he marched over the odds of the injustices,

for he was a man that conquered the mindset of oppressors,

to rewrite distorted history

he was a man whose ink dried on papers,

 in the land of dishonored agreements

he triumphed to change the unchanged,

When I recall,

the time his armies bowed in the torrential rains of bullets

he triumphed

he conquered self-professed armies of gods,

when I still recall,

the time he commanded his armies to capsize boats of lies,

he triumphed  in the  land of fallacies

for if I still bog my mind to invent the  wheel,

I see his strides,

I still see a finished job,

he did

When I still lift my head up amidst disarrays,

my psyche reminds me of the flood of blood,

which flooded all  the highlands of our country’s sides,

my mind still recalls all the whirling birds that,

 fatten on their fleshes,

the corpses of armies,

the collateral damage of the battle

When I still lift my head up in meditation,

my eyes still stumble on relics of war,

the traces of bones that littered the savannah,

the ornaments of beasts which fed of them

I still vow of living memories of ungodly people on the land,

when still reminded of the cries and wailing of innocents,

sorrows of widows and orphans,

I still remind of the cause of the war

I still see generations marching into the wild forests of our country