First Impressions of Nakuru

whispered words

screamed into holes

empty dry wells

weary tired soles.

trappings of tragedy, dustings of death

hanging on broken chains, there’s nothing left.

left alone, left unknown, left from home, left to roam.

       to search.

                to pine

                       for divine

                             intervention

                           emancipation

                                   liberation.

God, where are you?

          where is truth?

          where is hope?

          where is love?

love, that is everywhere

in empty wells, clinging to the dry parched walls

                                                                                     it falls

                                                 broken chains crack.

                                           God whispers back.

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