The Kenyan Bracelet [Photo Courtesy]

Not Yet Independence

“We are peaceful,” we chanted, Voices rising, in rhythm and to the beat, Young hearts, untamed, against the weight of years, We marched for something better, For freedom, for a chance to be heard.

But they saw us as a threat, and our peace was their fear.

There was hope,

Then the darkness struck, Monstrous in its silence, Bullets, not words, were their response, Abduction became their weapon, Fear their shield.

Our hope, once soaring, faltered beneath the weight of bloodshed.

We bled for a freedom that wasn’t yet ours, Bodies dropped, voices stilled, Our peaceful resistance met with violence. Some of us vanished into the night, Taken by shadows that bore no names, And the rest of us trembled in the quiet.

We are Kenyan, born of struggle and survival

We wear bracelets with the colors of our flag, meaning carved from blood and sacrifice. Black, for the people who have endured, who stand strong, Green, for the land, fertile yet pillaged by greed, White, for peace we crave but cannot find, And red, for the blood our ancestors shed, now mixed with ours.

For even in the silence, our hearts still beat, Though fear settled in, it could not quench the fire. We retreated, but not in defeat — Our voices, though quieter, still echo.

We will rise again, stronger.

(A dedication to young lives lost during the 2024 June protests in Kenya.)