The gods had fallen
Hell opened doors to her furnace
So the heat ran free to earth
Scorching the sand lands of north
Turkana, to torture our soles
And thirst our throats;

Still, we walked.

The winds rose, and whirled
Picked up the dust
And blasted our hard worn faces
The cacti stared at the carcasses
Once pride of our brother herders
And bid us quenching journeys;

And we walked.

The cows wobbled on their legs
And fell, resigning to their fates
A mother clung to her child
That maybe it’s soul won’t escape
But the girl couldn’t be saved
We put her down in the ground, to bake;

And walked.

The mirage tried to trick us
The vote hunter promised us
The Safari suit photographed us
To make the sympathy news;
After, we left the shade of the acacias
Of others – to walk our own journeys.