Exile
He left his native abode
To build monuments
Under another sky
He burdened himself
With many a gift of piety
Borrowed no stale tidings
He left behind a tarnished reputation
Sociable clans conjoined-
Endure this tale of poverty
He no longer recites poems
No longer lops branches
For a richer view of the blue hills
Those gleaming delights
Paled into thoughts of grief
Plying his trade
Those sorrows of home
Goaded the exile’s heart
Oh, age of tenderness!
The years drifted by
Gentle elegance- stifled with dust
Obscured the delicate splendour
Of flowers along silver streams
His intellect could no longer
Discourse on philosophy
Nor his pilloried benevolence
Shed his woes
Balancing his frail fortune
On love and pride
He summoned sages
To counsel his Prefect.
Copyright © Gerald Kithinji | Year Posted 2013
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