By Shem Onderi
The king was loved far and wide,
Gifted with exemplary skill.
His judgments were wise and clear,
Yet the people, in their talk,
Would brush past his words as though they were wind.
On the ballot, they would not have him—
For in the assembly his speeches came slow,
The Speaker’s cry of “Order!”
Filling the pauses he could not outrun.
The village baraza held no comfort for him;
Impatient feet stamped out his sentences
Before they could take shape.
Even the church, eager for his preaching,
Knew his voice could reach the heart—
Could stir the soul to tears—
But time would not grant him grace.
He longed to address the multitudes,
Yet stammering stood like a guard at the gate.
Even the armed forces once sought him,
But how could he command a parade
If the orders came halting?
And his mobile phone—another foe—
Conversations stretched, frayed, and broke.
A gifted king,
Flawless in thought,
Yet fated never to lead.