The Day Your Mother Got Married, Poem by Charles Karia

The day your mother got married.
They danced, sheep were slaughtered
According to your tribes doctrines,
From the deep descended the spirits,
To commune with your dancing clan,
To the chagrin of the eternal one.

It was so for all gone generations
For they did rituals after rituals
Each rite added another stain,
To the already defiled terrain.
The land now vomits the people,
They harvest not though they sow,
Men walk witha cane when young,
And sores are so a common thing,

Diseases incurable come in waves,
And many a home litter with graves.
Look quickly for a cleansing priest,
Knowing times, with Jesus intimate
Aware ofthe precious blood's glory,
Lest you become relics of history,
Like idol cities; Egypt and Babylon.
And other old lands of idolatry sin.