God, what evil have I committed wrong
That the stereo of my heart play only but a sad song?
Let the dew-drops of this terrible terrain erode my pain
Let the tree tops, buttressed –
shade my grains of laughter from owls
Let the preface of my diary escape this sorrow.
Your first anniversary now sprouting privets, green and raw,
like thickets of straw riveting in the inner cortex of Cheptiret
like the strata of sand stranded in the river banks of galana
Much has changed since you walked the other side of subway
I have become the weak loitering in stirrings of deep grief,
and circuses of bold, untold circumstances
I have become a fighter too weak to beat around the bush;
A cursed ostrich of agony with plenty strong wings yet can’t fly
I’m the abandoned, the helpless;
a grievous senyor, bereft,
wheeling a burrow of grave roses, weeds and mosses
Did I tell you of mom’s sleepless nights even
when a full moon was shining straight through her heart?
Or how dad keeps hanging around the window, hoping
to spot your spirit even in the snippet of a nanosecond?
I never told you how I could hide from the rain
because it couldn’t wash away the stains of the agony haunting my dreams.
Sir, only I wished you forgive me
How long it took to bring this poem to book.
I prayed love would take my worries home, but you were gone
I was alone and my worries bold.
Now my skin hosts stretch marks of pain gone wild
And my soul boasts of how tragedy cart takes man for a ride
Kiptum how do you say in Kalenjin
That pain has adopted me as its next of kin?
Sometimes I call upon a village waitress
” Mistress, please spare me a bottle of Chianti”
Get drunk with drowsiness and despair
Till my horny sadness would fuck up everything
I would cry, God grant me joy
But what was joy if you no more?
In memory of Cornelius Kiptum Tallam
My friend, My brother. Hero and victor .