Jobs not yet assigned
Contracts not yet signed
Deals, not yet sealed;
Ideas still not put on paper
then bang….! You are gone?
A piece of sharpened lead
Power of black gun powder
Hooked finger on the trigger
A face; dark, remorseless and empty of faintest virtuous emotion
Hold you at its mercy; judge between life and death.
Sometimes it can be slow and tortoruous
Other times swift and sweet;
As if life has no greater meaning and purpose.
While others sit in silent sorrow
Reminiscing about their shattered lives, dreams cut short;
but to a doomed damned future.
Even as they mourn their dead loved ones;
at an agreed rendezvous they meet,
to share their dirty, bloodied accursed loot;
Mission having been accomplished.
The one eyed, rasta ruffian states:
‘That was an easy ones, wazeya. What and what will be our next assignment?
Who will be our client?
How much is on offer? We need a bigger and better deal!’
No regard to the priceless value of human life;
See, the very life is played around with like poker
Yet we proudly proclaim: WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO LIVE!
How can it be so,
When bodies are sprayed with bullets
Throats of young productive adults ruthlessly cut all in cold blood
9 year old girl kids raped in broad daylight?
It is an everyday’s event
It no longer takes the centre stage
Unless it involves some big shot.
We turn to the law for the much needed help,
But they themselves-hands are tied
Cases dating back to ’69 unsolved.
At times the law enforcers rather than enforce the law
Serve as accomplished accomplices in the name of protecting innocent lives.
The bread winner is no more,
Loved one gone, no fore-warning;
Innocent blood shed…
Whom shall we turn to for material support,
and show love to?
Lord God, we ask for your intervention
Before we all fall victims.
[Written by Lewis Wafula]