By Unknown
I hope this letter finds you well—
though I doubt it will.
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Today, I was meant to return.
Chalk dust on my cuffs,
a lesson plan in hand,
a smile for my students.
But I won’t be coming.
Not sick.
Not quitting.
Just gone.
I went home to Homa Bay,
to greet my mother,
feel the breeze,
remember myself.
But they came.
Not thieves.
Not bandits.
Men with badges.
“Come with us,” they said.
“Just a small matter.”
But their vehicle roared.
Their mission had no mercy.
They didn’t ask.
They silenced.
They say I hit the wall.
They say I confessed with my skull.
But walls don’t kill—
unless hands help them.
I died in a cell.
No whiteboard left to tell my side.
My only weapon?
A keyboard.
My only sin?
Truth.
Tell the students—
Mr. Alberto won’t be back.
Not because he failed them,
but because this country failed him.
Now,
I mark papers in silence.
Six feet under.
While justice hides above ground.
Editor’s note: This poem was extracted from Kenya Celebrity Gossip’s Facebook page. The author’s name was not immediately established.
