A letter to the fallen soldiers

This is the third week yet you haven't grown persistent; a voice whispered to me, brimming my mouth with words of consolation. The demise was a piece of spoil in the national cake whose bitterness was tasted by every Kenyan.

However, I understand there are those whose fragile hearts haven't withstand; here is your God speaking renewal.  My youthful body exhibit the reality of a genuine liver. I mean the goodness of bearing with the misfortunes of this planet. It's the secret of trying a smile after weep. I haven't grown old under the scorching sun, forty is just a figure. To me troubles are a passing wind. When I fall I rise. The ponderous burden was pitilessly stocked on me. Languished for a lost relative, friend and fellow national; yet I have grown stronger and armed for a new life. It's the fortitude in the hearts that conquered the frailness of the body; it never let a streak in my soul. I have resorted to a fuller life despite the storms!