Category: Reflections

62. The Anatomy of Political Madness  

Behold, the galloping madness! Haunted by the terrifying sound of the owl, and the image in the mirror – a hyena in full drool -, the King charges forth, unaware of the point of no return on a perilous path.

61. This Travelers Palm

After years of nursed anticipation years of endured indifference years of standstill stares years of suspended joy   Now this year the year of descended pain you have ascended the sky

The Corona Chronicles

A walk, a Judo roll, a ‘cushion fall’, a stretch, a shower, a bowl of fruit to allow thoughts to dart and roam while tethered on a rock of (un)certainty: we are a rare flare of light from the clash

59. 2020 and ?

Across the cavernous chasm of ignorance Perched tentatively on the cliff of laughter We gnash our teeth and try to remember innocence We remember how we were butterflies – our loads lighter How we darted randomly without a care or

1. Kenya’s political landscape is an oratory desert  

Kap Kirwok (2009) Words have power. No surprise there. We know this because words can heal or hurt; they can tickle and tame an impulse. Words can titillate, incite and excite. They can also lift or crash the human spirit.

It is the bubble, stupid

Kap Kirwok  (2009) Bubble. It is a simple, two-syllable word that sounds innocent enough. On closer examination, however, you quickly discover that it can be a window to a whole world of meaning about life. This year the word bubble has

Fragments united

Mum: Slippery certainty, and the solidity of a suckle on a teat.   Mama: To still my thoughts and dream. Yes, to dream less, but, dear mama, I dream about you still.   Grandma: A fleeting fragment of faith in

57. Now that we are here, come, let us talk…

Now that we are here, trembling with rage, let us talk about a silence that throbs in the dark; a fertile silence that crawls like a snake in a cage – hissing – ‘I am blessed, my colour is NOT

56. Overheard

The moon says to the sun: ‘Let’s meet at midnight to admire our shadows; come, listen to the tone of the fugitive sound as water makes sand from the rock of sorrows’   The sun, speaking in elongated silences, replies:

55. You Came to Where you Have Been

You came here, but here is where you have always been You have been here, not seen, not foreseen.   Now we see your beauty in the crown of terror And yet, from dawn to dusk, our beauty hides behind

Top