Dear Pastor, - Poem by macaulay akinbami
I come in consideration,
That this should be my last resort.
Having sought help from callers not a few.
From hoodoos and voodoos of all gods
With promises of peace yet unknown.
Should my attempt a futile be?
Then shall I be blameless to take this life.
The guilt is heavy on my mind
Of Adam’s weight and more
I stand condemned, countless lust against all men
A pricking fear suggest my doom.
I sought in vain,
For peace of earth
Material gain bereft my arm
And though in them I had my fill
Yet fading power o’rcome their time.
My life and labours under a master
A brutal tyranny must I obey
So strong the fetters unseen by mortals
Daily in pains seeking help.
None on earth a succor,
And heaven’s gate refuse my plea.
Ancient transgression from my roots
Of my hearings and many lost.
My path a daily obstacle
That years of slavery in them
Never a jubilee in sight.
I stand condemned before your God
What is my bill?
As other callers made me pray
The tithes of sins to basket holes.
A weary soul lost and condemned
From earthly pride of yesteryears,
Today a humble captive to your God
Fro whom you speak of earth and heaven
And if today at your prescription
I find no help in this sanctuary,
Then your God is as the others
Weak, powerless and false.
I will pay your dues for consultation
The usual offering of your most evocative sermon.
Alas! O pastor,
Speak for your God.
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