This is the part missing.
Let the lone voice speak
It has long been silenced by pretence
of Caretakers --unheard-- it's a quiet lone voice
Reason-- chased and fled to cold mountains
Fogged eternally, it bears no longer a tongue
But let me speak!
Not when heartless buried minds slaughter
man flesh for their concubines;
for their fat bellies to be filled yet again
at lunch. Caretakers.
I'm the lone voice when bullets kiss the chest and smells.
Let me speak-- lest i become a lone
voice of the eccentric.
A poem on the December 2007 Kenyan post-election violence.
If and when we would decide to read poetry or a piece of discerning article a day, our world is, then headed for a change. No magic potion whatsoever: if there were, politicians would have used it a long time ago. Our mind is all that we have; the only exception to tricks of all corners and angles. Enjoy the luxury and peace of poetry...
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