The March Poem by Ifegwu Victor

They marched tirelessly
knowing fully well
that there can never be
a second death after a first, nor
will there be a second march
against the tyrant
against the self-imposed leader
against the sit-tight leader


who thinks that leadership
is a virtue found only
within his family
and must do everything to keep it so
even if it requires the lives of others
who to him are but 'commoners'


With thunderous shouts
and countless placards
they keep trooping
they keep marching
they keep shouting

'enough is enough! '
'leave us alone! '
'go home and rest! '
'we are tired of you! '
'we have endured enough! '


Even the blockade
by the men in khaki
equipped to the tooth
who are ever ready to spit fire
from their black metals
at the slightest order to do so


yet, they were not moved
yet, they were not threatened
and without arms but their arms
and without ammunition
but their coordination
they advanced


like the tale of the fly
following the corpse to its
six-foot residential palace
they surged
they charged forward


not wanting to surrender
not thinking of a retreat
even as they fell one atop another
harmlessly
without protests to their deaths


reassured that they die good deaths
the heroic deaths,
death in exchange for future deaths

dying to create hope
where it does not exist,

dying to bring a change
that the future...
yes! that the future needs

dying to buy that future
for their unborn

who as they've been told
are the leaders of tomorrow...