Elegy for Raila Odinga.

Kenya wakes in black scarves of dawn,

her rivers kneeling, whispering your name RAYILA.

The sun halts halfway through its duty—

it too cannot believe a torch can dim.

You were the storm that learned to speak gently,

a lion who roared through prisons of silence,

your voice a wind bending history’s spine,

your eyes—two moons over the valley of struggle.

Today, the soil remembers your footsteps,

each grain trembling beneath Uhuru’s tree.

The wind from Kibera hums your unfinished hymn,

and Lake Victoria weeps into her blue shawl.

Even stones, those proud witnesses of time,

crack open—revealing red roots of remembrance.

We the children of your stubborn dream,

walk barefoot through your legacy’s ash.

O Raila, son of Odinga,

freedom’s last syllable rests upon your lips.

You taught us that dying is not defeat,

but the final verse of a people’s song.

Sleep now, baba wa taifa,

beneath a sky stitched with your own courage.

The tears we shed are not of despair—

they are rivers returning home.😢😢😢