My vest is soaked, the pillow drenched
Silence stands still outside, cowering
Under its own shadow. The winds are stuck
The breeze frozen. It should rain soon
God willing.
Mama says: “Maize seedlings shriveling
By the day. Beans, peas and napier also
And son, do send some money home. These
Debts will finish us! Oh, I forgot, your sister
Skipped school. We hear she’s married. Maybe
She’ll come back, maybe it will rain again.”
God willing.
Boss says we’ve got to triple targets
Before bargaining better pay. Let’s pray
That the shilling stabilizes, oil prices drop,
The matatus madness ends. Those targets
Sweeping skies are high enough. Bring them
Down a little, no? Maybe we’ll achieve them.
God willing.
Somewhere some dimwit educates others. He
Says: “You’ll get seventy two virgins. Maybe
More than the King of Swazi. A palace of pearls,
Tens of beds, each with a woman…” They don’t
Say: “It’s as if you’ve killed humanity, if you kill one”
Maybe someone someday will. Oh, they better!
God willing.
How many more years before the chaos? Before
We turn on each other with abandon. Killing,
Maiming, destroying. How many more years before
Removing the sheepskin and the masks on our faces?
How many more years before counting the dead,
The displaced, the losses and property destroyed
Instead of ballots? Maybe elections would be peaceful.
God willing.
My love says we’ve got to do this thing next year
I have been advised, “before writing poems with
Lines like the past is deep.”I have really been
Meaning to do it, you know. The rains failed, boss
Said wait, and we cannot be too sure of life after
Elections. Maybe it will rain, boss would change
His mind and maybe elections would be peaceful.
God willing.
Karani Kelvin sells insurance and writes poetry on the side. Follow him on Twitter and Facebook .
