For the 148 Makers of Kenya
Thursday April 2nd 2015
My fingers tremble, my heart shakes, my vision blurs with tears,
my speech disappears,
One hundred and forty eight lives lost,
Lives of children of God, children of Kenya, makers of the future,
Children who were there in the scorching sun of the East,
Day after day, taking in knowledge that they were eager to pass down,
Knowledge that they would share regardless of religion or tribe,
Knowledge that they knew was the secret to building a stronger nation.
Mass killings, yes, mass killings, the second highest in our beloved country,
Children who lost their lives because of their faith, a faith they had faith in,
Children who had lives, and carried the lives of their families back home.
That Thursday morning, warm as all the other mornings, probably warmer,
That Thursday that housed plans for the Easter holidays,
That Thursday, when the saddest and most cruel event took over dawn,
That Thursday that even the worst nightmares could not match,
That Thursday that even video games and horror movies could not match.
These children were in the supposedly safest spot in the region,
Well, what security threat do you fear when you home barracks and a police headquarters?
But that day was different, a whole lot different,
Their most treasured resource; life, was at the mercy of a few terrorists,
Who were thirsty for lives of helpless innocent children of God.
They prayed and asked for help, knowing there were able people out there,
Who were on their way to their rescue.
148 lives and 15 hours later, the siege ended,
Weeks since, millions of heart breaks haven’t ended,
Decades later, I know the memories will not have completely faded.
I cry for all the friends and family we all lost,
The suns that were so bright in their prime times,
Suns that had been covered and chained by an everlasting eclipse,
Never to rise again.
I cry for that father who lost his only child,
I cry for that mother who had put all her toil in her daughter’s education,
Always praying for the day she would graduate and give her the greatest satisfaction,
I cry for that little kid who always looked up to his elder sister,
Proud of her and seeing inside her a bright light,
I cry for the father who sold his all and invested in his daughter’s education
And saw it fade like gambled money, gathered in a lifetime and lost in a flash,
I cry for that mother who could not even identify her son,
The same son whose face she had pampered, now a hive of clogged metal,
I cry for that family that pulled their resources together and sent a single child to school,
They had probably arranged for a graduation feat,
But received a coffin in return.
I cry for the makers of Kenya who perished,
Makers of Kenya whose only fault was being on the wrong side of religion,
In life we lost them, but in our hearts they are guaranteed a special place,
I pray for those of us who lost them,
That we may fulfil their dreams, that is the least we can do for them.
God be with us.
