THE DEAD GOD OF RAIN By Peter K'ouma

The dead god of rain

the green bush is all gone
replaced with thick sand and dust
patched by animal bones and skulls
the wind whirling so unusually
raising strings of wind heavenwards
i can’t hear the birds sing anymore
nor even the cry of the crickets
they are all down
down on the thick dust
not even the vultures can feast
for they are all gone.
rivers are dry and dead
valleys filled with wild bones
mountains and hills
all are clear and rocky
no longer a home for the hyenas
exposing them to the cruel death

for moons and seasons
it has been shinning
as if it was lowered to earth.
just few seasons back
the ancestors would punish us
for killing a visitor
or for not offering the sacrifices
for the good harvest
but
but this is unusual
i can’t hear the sacrifice songs anymore
nor see bulls led for offerings
the god of rain is dead
very dead and buried with his clouds.
have you butchered all the fat animals
for your visitors
or taken them to the penny markets?
no more ceremonies.
or
have you killed all the old men
and prophets of god of thunder and rain?
no more messengers.
or
have we all gone to schools
and read wide
to challenge orders of the gods?
no more prayers.
or
have we all cleared
all the sacred places
and shrines of Ramogi
setting hunger in Were, the god?
the god of rain is dead and gone.