Essy The Poet

I met a corpse standing, tall and bold yet old and cold. Nobody desires such an encounter, with a corpse. Even when prepared, one reluctantly may view it, But when ambushed, it is a different story. Around the corpse were homes; some elegant, some impoverished. I wonder how it feels waking up to the sight of a corpse! The corpse clung to some hope as the decades waved on. ‘A pitiful tyrant may shove in a new breath of life; a pillion  in millions, Or perhaps a foreigner will buy and salvage my dignity.’ Mhhhh! May be, may be not. Hope can be overly apprehensive. I was mortified at the sight. This corpse deserves a closure of some sort, send him to the gallows Its carcass mustn’t wither in shame, it already rots. Hope thinks some resuscitation works wonders. Since the corpse is still tall and bold along the highways of Western Kenya. Exhilarating as much as it astounds. May be a magician might flex up and redeem the carcass to be. Breathing a new lease of life to the Webuye Paper Factor

By Sr. Esther Jeruto Koros  There is a sly being, the father of lies  Creeping into the will, weapon of disguise. He sows doubt and pride with discord for an outcome. It is how Eve and Adam lost a home; The sly one slithered in, so keen to confuse His design and prowess anchored in a ruse!   ‘Did God really say?’ his manner of interrogation. Got Eve doubting what she heard in her spouse’s admonition. The Apostle Peter at his request, walked on water, Until doubt crept in, ‘what if I drowned?’ he sunk deep into the gutter The evil defiled his trust and the master utterly disappointed cried: ‘Man of little faith, why did you doubt?’ he asked. The master entered while Apostle Thomas was absent, Not taking to hearsay, ‘until his side, hands and feet I touch.’he didn’t relent. His knack for skepticism condemned the master, for trust and skepticism never made friends. And don’t I know a cemetery of old skulls, whose vivacity never made it to the fore, Until they met their end,their very purp