THE SOUL-INSPIRING STORY

Far away the shouts of strive,
In my ear it dives.
Then I know the sins of the Forefathers beset on the cloud.
Tried to doubt,
But fear of the things the land will vomit gang.
Yet, none can move me from my Father’s land.

Far below the storms of life,
For the war of attrition rise,
Men in battle long to fight the spirits of the sand;

Safe I am because I am in my Father’s land.

Far above,
The stormy breezes blow;
The green land turned brown,
The smiling sun frown,
The rivers turned red.
Under the roof which the head lays on the bed,
Blown away by the hot air of sly;
Even though I live in a mountain covered with a cloudless sky,
Spell bound by the thunder clang
I still treasure my Father’s land.

Farfetched in cave,
The tempest of death rave,
And cold freezes the latest breath,
To flood in the rising tide of death.
The heavy extinction of life,
By open wings of strife,
The wild winds of sorrow in our hearts lie bland,
The anchor still keeps me in my father’s land.

Far off in a fey fiction,
I seek for beautiful vision.
A sacrifice to stir the hardened hearts of the gods;
And swing their left hands filled with bog,
From the left to the right,
From shades of darkness to plains of light,
To a stage set for the moonlight dance
For I love my father’s land.

Far reaching,
The heart of fear and grief,
Cleansed from sadness and cowardice,
And breezing away the clouded eyes –
The shades of darkness fly away,
The nights of our mare turned into day.

Far above the mews,
The sky turns to its loving blue.
The land refreshed by its sweet green,
And its flowers beauty gleam.
As the birds suck from its sweetness,
Songs of gladness flow from their beak in meekness.

Far within,
Our fears resign,
Joy heals the sick heart,
And the eyes uncovered by the veils of the dark.
Freed from the high and stormy gale,
To a wonderful shining sun of the age,
To become Ambassadors of sangfroid,
For I adore my father’s land.

Author: Izuchukwu Udokwu