There are sounds we hear
From distant lands in cold nights
in daylights and in our motherland
of cracks, bullets and raging raffles
of trembling feet consumed by the fear
yet daring to draw their swords
while we cross our arms in comfort

There are stories of men!
whose bravery knows no bound
who dared death with cloned armors
who did not die but offered their souls
who defile nature for a true course
while our eyes are shut in sleep
the widen their eyes to trace
the footprints of insecurity

I know stories of giants fallen like
roothless Irokos in sambisa, alike
I know of vibrant heart beats
reduced to weak pulse and to nothing
but with the song of allegiance on their lips
I know of screams, anguish, of grindings,
of pains of the family they left behind

I don’t know the color of this grief
but my heart aches in silent aches
for a country who stabs its own at the back
even now I am yet to dymistify this mystery
I speak not of wit but of a bleeding heart
I pray for a country that offers its own in the
alter of propaganda and political thirst
as sacrifice with a dark heart dressed in wide grin
yet reach out a hand to the drunken thirsty beast
parting it backs and taking it home
I don’t know what smell truth wear
but the radiant glow of a HERO can't be hidden!!
So I celebrate our heroes fallen and those standing
I pray that wisdom find its comfort with you
I pray the holy one shield you from this wild
burning fire that consumes your brotherhood