While on a road trip,
I meet this old block chip.
A fine young man
For whom I make bold to say I stan.
He is at a checkpoint under the scorching sun,
It must have been in no way fun.
We come upon him with our driver.
Flagging us down, in fear we did shiver
He asks that we, off the road, clear
In our mind is a gripping fear.
We clear as instructed,
For we want no feeling of duty obstructed.
Right then, he asks about our start-off point & destination;
This we tell him without procrastination.
Discovering we are academics
He smiles, giving some advice-mix,
Asking that we place our focus well
In order that we have a life that's swell,
That he says, in pidgin.
The silence is much, you could hear the sound of a pin.
I am stunned,
My fear is gunned.
I look at him, his face spelling tired & stressed,
By these he is being caressed.
Something is spurred in my person,
Like someone had committed a treason.
I wonder who it was,
I proceed with a noble cause
To find out how much he would earn for standing under that sun & even in the rain.
I am struck by a nerve cutting pain
I discover a soldier like himself earns a 5-figure wage,
I think to myself, what a carnage
Because some peasants earn the kind of salaries these heroes were to make.
These peasants take the lion share of the cake
While the lions take the leftover
What an unfortunate irony to discover
I think to myself, what a nation
That celebrates the lax to all's consternation
And disgraces the hardworker to same
Need I say more than it's a big shame.