This poem is a gathering of my thoughts following the recent Kenyan elections. Fear, frustration, division, celebrations, calls for peace so that we can “move on”, move on to what? It is not about the elections, this is an inevitable expression of what we have ignored or suppressed over a long period of time.
a history, erased
sounds of vuvuzelas drown echoes of the past
commissioner’s seal blots out history’s ink
grief is indeed a luxury
history begins here
every action, word
every thought, memory
creates my history
while you create yours
which one of our histories will survive
which one shall be suppressed?
don’t look back, nothing to see
you, move out!
“life goes on”
(but somewhere it must reach)
you are a people without history
stick to your geography
boundaries were not sketched without reason
the kind of anger that is visible
a fire that scathes skin
and the kind of anger that simmers silently
filtering through each pore,
what will remain
shall be your history
But, we shall heal….