Echoes of the Hills

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From a higher realm,

the echoes reverberate

carrying eavesdropped conversations

of hills.  The peak salutes the sun

bowing to the sanctified caves;

the incessant squeaks of hyraxes

echo across the hills;

frightened segesege chased by farmers

adept mayosoy ambling over tree-branches

we are at this moment, fellow pilgrim

treading on the boulders of this hill

upon weathered rocks, rotting roots

to smell a whiff of nature’s scent

or to spot footprints on molten lava

“sons and daughters of the hills,”

we shall hear,

“you don’t axe sacred roots

you don’t hunt the hyraxes”

but the hills are desecrated

defaced by bullets;  

polluted by sly pilgrims;

one day, just one day,

the hills will rebel.

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Lorot Son of the Hills’ Notes:

Segesege- Kiswahili for porcupine

Mayosoy- Pokot for monkeys

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