SORO-ITS-OKAY (A Poem) by Nnamdi Dixon Onuoha

With the cup filled with blood, we toast,
Dressed in dripping green and white coat.
The labour of the heroes past.
How long will their pains last?

From the toll gate,
To the shut down gates.
Cracked like clay,
Our loved ones lay.

Shouts of Sorosoke,
Believing say e go dey okay,
But bullets in your chest doesn’t mean okay.
So we ran to our shell just to form okay.

From an end SARS protest
To a nationality contest.
Everyday we sit at home,
Our good times vanished like foam.

We have boarded hardship
Like the Titanic ship.
Capsized, we begin to drown.
Death becomes our crown.

We have become dancers,
Dancing surugede in place of moonlight dance,
A dance only survived by the fittest,
Turn on your radio and hear the latest.

UAR or dot land,
The answer to our problems in our hand.
If this country is not worth dying for,
Then let’s make it worth living for.

No off light wey you go still need to see.
If death clap for your ears,
Wetin dem go take remember you.
Nwanne it takes a lot of energy to do bad.

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About the author

I'm Dav-Oz, and  I'm the Chief Editor of The Dav-Oz Blog, a graphic designer and upcoming fashion designer.

I'm just your regular young Nigerian lad with dreams and hope for a better future.

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