Empty Savannas – Inside the heart of the Swahili Hunter

It hurts
To think
To speak
To feel
To love

An everlasting winter in my heart
The fields are bare
The land is dark
The ants have been in hiding for quite a while
The birds have left with no return
The wind is cold and dry
The world is dark
Lions hungry staring at the time
Waiting for a catch
Waiting for a breath of life

It hurts
The hunger
The longing
The anticipation

And as I skin myself to feed
The world I live in
Sheath by sheath I lose myself
To malice, hatred and intimidation
I paint my cheeks with strokes of blood
A hunter ready to provide
Willing to set forth on an expedition
To hunt himself
With pointy spikes
To burn himself
Atop a blazing bonfire
To serve himself
To loved ones, friends and family

An unreciprocated intimacy
Resides in these parts of the land
They take and give nothing in return
They poach and steal
From my lagoon of ever-giving love
They drink themselves to sleep
And I grow thirstier with every sip

I wonder when the day will come
When the world will notice
How skinless I have been made
How naked I am to the unforeseen
How weak I have become by my own decree

I spread a sheath of flesh into the air
I point it towards the sun
And I stare
A glare of pinkish red lights my face
At last, some color in this barren place