In Kenya where armies
of tires and rocks burning,
arrows and pangas bloody,
fight
to quench hate, renew apathy;
in Ukambani the wind blows at will, as usual,
kerosene is up, regardless, men and women
continue their pleas to their sky and God for rain.
Later in the starry darkness, they listen closely
to the radio for news of how much closer the
trouble has traveled.

Trying to be gentle, more productive, and more effective with myself…