The Perpetual Warfare of Life
Oluseyi Ogunbanwo@oluseyiogunbanwo018093
1 day ago
*The Perpetual Warfare of Life*
Life is no meadow of untroubled bloom—
It is a field where unseen banners rise.
I entered it in crimson travail,
With shrieks that tore the trembling air;
My mother, rescued from death’s cold brink,
Lay spent between anguish and relief.
Around my cradle glad voices swelled—
Yet none foretold the wars ordained for me.
My midnight cry, a helpless trumpet,
Summoned not comfort alone but scorn.
Disturbed neighbours muttered in wrath,
As though my breath were their offence.
Thus, ere memory found its seat,
My first encounter was with resistance.
I crept upon the earth, a curious pilgrim,
Eyes wide to the marvel of created things.
Goblets fell beneath my eager hand,
Water wandered from its vessel;
And innocence, unknowing of its trespass,
Harvested reproach in playful strides.
Soon I stood among companions,
Boasting youth’s bright treasures—
A gleaming bicycle, my father’s grace.
Yet generosity faltered within me,
And friendship, denied its portion,
Turned swiftly to rivalry’s flame.
So learned I how frail is fellowship
When self enthrones itself above love.
Manhood came with solemn stride.
From halls of learning to labour’s field I passed,
Where diligence won favour—
And favour bred envy.
A superior’s smile concealed suspicion;
Merit became accusation.
Thus warfare found me clad in honour.
Wearied, I sought the fold of Christ,
As the hart that panteth for cooling streams.
Yet even there the contest ceased not;
For they who resist the Light
Cast shadows upon its children.
Daily I bore the reproach of faith,
And learned that sanctity, too, is assailed.
O how impossible to please the sons of Adam!
I journeyed on foot—and angered the horseman.
I tasted herbs—and vexed the butcher.
I clothed myself in modest hue—
And stirred the merchant’s indignation.
For in this theatre of restless desire,
Even harmlessness provokes offence.
Strangely compounded is mortal existence:
The dead are adorned with praise,
The living pierced with censure.
The wealthy walk envied paths;
The poor tread roads of neglect.
Peace crowns the silent tomb,
While the breathing wrestle with unrest.
Thus stands the truth, austere and unyielding:
Life is perpetual warfare—
Not always of sword and shield,
But of spirit against spirit,
Of man against envy,
Of conscience against corruption,
Of hope against despair.
And though no trumpet sounds retreat,
Nor any banner promises ease,
Still must the pilgrim advance—
For to live is to contend,
And to endure is victory enough.
-Oluseyi Ogunbanwo
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