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ODE TO FRONT-LINERS (a poem by Olaewe David Opeyemi)

Read Time:1 Minute, 17 Second
COVID's fangs stung our kind and released
a violent venom. Nature burdened you to lead
in this race war, to stand in front of our race,
where the battle is fiercest and the greed
for blood is relentless like a raging inferno.
The fire is advancing, bodies are burning
like heaps of cobs caught in harmattan flame.
And you stood there in your gowns and your masks
fetching people from the flame as if
you do not live in houses of flesh, as if
you do not have people whose hearts skip
and leap with currents of worries for you.
You fought like death is nothing
but a toothless lion in a children cartoon,
like you're gods whose dwelling
is beyond the scope of cosmos, like
mercury is flowing through
your veins, like your bodies are
insulated from chars and scales.
But you only fought, incubating humanity
in the cocoons of your heart, seeing the
best out of us, feeding us with morsels of hope,
Of victory, one day, very soon.

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