Born To Be... Poem by Okoemu Okoemu Okoemu

Zealous burning passion
Immeasurable and unquatified
Who can stay so strong, so long without food
Yet gets filled and never frail for a whole day?
Even in his lack, he has a coin or a bread or a cup
To spare for his wards...
He wears his only cloth, he sees his infant ward running nose
He cleans his nose with his shirt for he lacked a handkerchief
He tries to take a walk, he sees an infant ward crying, in wait for his parents
He knows without being told that she is starving
A naira he had saved so much with care denying himself many
He uses it to get the child at least, a biscuit and a water
Without expecting a thank you or a repay
Knowing that, the next morning the ward will forget his gesture
A teacher!
Such a man, hated most by his wards for his love for them
Which makes him never spare the rod so the ward won't spoil
Such a no good man, but the best of men!
Not great but the greatest for he alone wishes his wards to be the best and greatest.
A poor rich creature!
He stands all day in his class, with legs as iron steels serving as bones
Feeling the pains, so excruciating,
Seeing a ward in danger of death,
He ran without his legs, leaving them behind feeling no pains, with all strengths
He tries to revive, rushing the ward, carrying him on his aching back running carrying her on his tired arms leaping
A long long distance of journey to arrive
All through before meeting a doctor and a nurse
He was both at the same time!
After all, he remembers, his legs had been left behind and he too was a patient not in a ward.
No matter his challenges and difficulties
He forces a smile
He is a happy man
That his wards may be happy
Even when behind his smiles and happiness, there is a trail of tears and hard life.
He must love even when he is not loved
His wards can grow to shun and hate him
Even still not knowing him
Even when their parents disregarded him everytime,
He is still always there!
The least earner, though, he careless.
In sickness and in health he is serving his wards
All these he knew before venturing in
A man of sorrow and acquitted with grief
Despise by his own handmade, yet he is cool
Looking nice, always nice
No matter what!
Careless for everything but most for something, his ward!
The teacher,
A victim of everytime
A victim of anything;
A common teacher, the uncommon man!
-Okoemu Okoemu Okoemu, Rabboni.