The stadium is packed full
with young and old people
and not to watch rugby,
but to hear
what a man from America says.
“God is now talking to Africa
and has a message for you, ”
sounds deafening
over speakers,
so as if God up to now
was unaware
of Africa and the people in it
and now first knows about me.
We are reminded
that the Son of God
made a sacrifice
on a wooden cross
and the wind blows a magazine
selling cars
into me
and there are all types,
big and small
with prices that differ
and I am startled
when the man next to me
push a collection plate
into my hand
and I have to pay a price
to the man
that sells Jesus for a living.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem