Red Altar Poem by Olayiwola Olarewaju Metamofosis

Murder in the Cathedral
Morning Mass turned mourning mass
The Altar,
steeped in the blood -
the blood of men.
Sunday wore sackcloth.
In the red pool,
the corpses - laities and priests
littered the aisles and the pews.

The lukewarm
thanked God for their alibi
and the fervent paid heavily
for their fervency;
the normalcy has been given a twist.

Brethren!
What eyes will behold
the white rug turned crimson
and the hallowed Altar
spattered with sacrilege!
Well-wishers,
What heart will endure
morning Mass turned mass burial!

The heart trembles
and the skin veins
reverberate at the pogrom
in the place of worship.

Dainty worshippers
made cadavers
mangled and emptied
by the shots of incendiaries.

What eyes will behold
the massacre!
What heart will endure
the grisly woe!
Devil had a field day
and Beelzebub dined on carcasses:
father dying upon his son;
wife incinerated with her husband.
Like beef from the barbecue,
folks charred and lives wrung
from the living trees.
What wickedness!

We have counted corpses
and still counting.
Tears rolled down like cataract
from our persecuted eyes.
The streets echo with the wailings
of our desolation -
Abomination of the Desolation.

The world is not our Home;
our hope rests in the Home beyond.
Although we could revolt and reprise
our breastplate and shield is Faith.

Yet, we shut not our mouths
to this agenda
to stifle the Faith in us.
We wield placards
close to our chests
and await the vengeance of state security
but the security of Heaven is sure
fighting this battle
from earth to Home beyond.

Olayiwola Olarewaju (Metamofosis)
11th June,2022.