I will not climb the Kirinyaga

I will not Climb the Kirinyaga

I will not climb the Kirinyaga
I will stand tall and beat my chest
I will howl into the skies and bellow my rage below
I will claw the heavens and stomp the ground into a pulp

I do not need to climb the Kirinyaga
I do not want to feel its snowy nipples
I have no desire to stand on its frozen battlements
I need not crawl up its battered walls
I am the Kirinyaga
I straddle it from my earthly perch
I see the skies above and below it
I am the spirit of my ancestors buried under it

The vapour that dies to live and to precipitate its top
The blood that dried on the lips of hanged freedom fighters
The trees that dry from its drying springs
The black towering desperation they all make me