When Duty Calls, We leave Until One day We'll Never Leave Again

We're zombies in robes
and garments,
miry at heart, but fervent
songs of death
are music to the ears,
till that last day nears!
when we could no longer leave,
because then
we'd cease to breathe,
so, we're a walking paradox
historically contagious
like smallpox,
till charisma climax
and becomes tragedy,
oath nevertheless, binds us
to heed our call to duty.


Aware!
but one could only stare,
too compelling
is the oozing of regret
but like sailors at sea, fully
resigned to fate
we're fated to save the day,
but also perish the same
wherever the tides takes us,
wherein bloodshed
like an ocean of free fall,
so we'd ponder on
inevitability,
of a mission unavoidable,
gullible enough, and patiently
waiting,
in embrace of a pending
catastrophe,
swiftly lurking in the shadows,
but parading our doors.


We're men and women
hiding behind
a mask of discomfort,
we live so we could one
day leave again,
like ironies of life betrays.
love of family is like a warmth,
reaching for the heart,
like a gunshot,
unable to provide solace,
and ripping to shred,
but plaguing the eyes are tears
of dryness,
from families, waiting, to once
again celebrate or mourn
our return.


When duty calls,
we've learnt to obey till
we cripple or fall,
even when we're slaves of war,
rallying a noble cause,
until we could do so, no more.
whence we are,
like archeologist in the
underground,
diligently searching,
for a millennium discovery,
until we find that
which sends us to eternal sleep,
we shall, but endlessly
slip into the surreal.


But when duty calls,
when at the brink
of death on the battlefront,
we become vessels, to be
honoured with medals,
but animosity of war is
like a stealth agenda,
a facade by war hypocrite
to undermine courage
and bravery,
there and then, we
shall but fade into memories,
like a bedtime lullaby
to be engraved
even on stony hearts,
regrets in the aftermath
when we realize
how freedom isn't free,
and so much we've sacrificed
as soldiers for our country.

Written and edited
By @aduragbemi
Erinkitola Aduragbemi
8th January, 2020.

I'm a writer with fading ink, and the poet I am sometimes amuses me because often times when I write, only a few understands me or my poetry.