Simiyu S. Stanford
It was a night
A night where shadows conspired,
Both the best,
And the worst,
When the wind howled like a chorus of lost souls
And trees stood rigid,
Sculpted by fear, frozen sentinels.
Bullets sliced the darkness,
Hissing like vipers,
Splintering the fragile silence,
Ricocheting in a chaotic dance,
Striking the roof,
A deafening death knell.
I crouched low,
A trembling figure at the bed’s edge,
Shallow breaths stolen by dread,
My heart, a war drum,
Pounding a rhythm of panic.
Kerio Valley-an unyielding witness to ancient grief,
Where cliffs held secrets
And the river carved whispers of loss.
Yet even its silent endurance,
Its unforgiving beauty,
Could not rival the chaos
Left in the wake of Tot’s storm,
Where blood and dust fused,
And the sun rose heavy with echoes of despair.
Dawn crept in, blood-streaked and vengeful,
Casting a red gaze over ruin.
Spent shells glittered cold,
A testament to the night’s fury,
Jagged symbols of rage and survival.
Rustlers, ghosts of violence,
Fled into the pallid breath of morning,
Dissolving into the frost-bitten shroud of daybreak.
About the Poet: Simiyu S. Stanford, author of The Ring of the Moon, is a writer and educator with a Master of Arts in English Literature. His work delves into themes of identity, resilience, and self-worth, enriched with vivid imagery and symbolism. Simiyu is a regular contributor to the Mount Kenya Times, where he writes for the poetry column. For inquiries, contact him at +254726651428 or via email at stanfordsiboe@gmail.com.
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