Dirge of the Pen’s Triumph - Akpokona Omafuaire

By Akpokona Omafuaire

O listen, winds of Warri,
Carry this tale through ink-stained halls,
Where weary voices once trembled
Under the weight of forgotten calls.

The day was long with silent cries,
Ballots cast like falling tears,
Echoes of doubt in every corner,
Shadows shaped by countless fears.

Yet from the dust of fractured trust,
A name rose soft, then strong, then clear—
Akpokona Omafuaire, child of the press,
Whose voice the restless hearts could hear.

Not with drums of reckless triumph,
Nor songs of boastful might,
But with the solemn grace of duty
Crowned in the fading light.

O NUJ Warri, your path is written now
In ink both bold and worn—
For every victory carries sorrow
For battles lost, for hope reborn.

Let pens be raised, not just in praise,
But in vigil, firm and true—
For power rests on fragile pages
That time and truth renew.

Sing low, O voices of Warri Correspondents'
Not all joy is loud or bright—
For even in a victor’s moment
We mourn the cost of the fight.

And so we mark this turning page,
With reverence, calm, and care—
For leadership is a fleeting flame
Best carried by those who dare.