Smoke rises from the lone manyatta in the distance
In the thicket, crickets chime a dirge
For the one who is lost.
A dozen lay dead by his side.
Obliterated by the single force of hate
Brewed for months on an ancient pot of curses from animal sacrifices
Ruto, a hard-nosed negotiator
with sticky hands,
slit tongue, dripping with honey and malice;
Lay in a heap of humans scattered across the field.
Chei!
When asked not to touch,
He touched!
When asked not to speak
He spoke.
He stood on the trains way
Believing in an ancient weak god for protection.
A ghastly sight.
All the false dreams cut shot
Obliterated by the single force of hate
Brewed for months on an ancient pot of curses from animal sacrifices
A snake slithers out through the nose,
Disappears into the nearby thicket,
Sheds its skin and waits
For another time.
‘Appease the gods or face the same fate’
Unpublised, 01st Oct 2022
