PASTOWEALTHISM

It was supposed to be farm stool
That every tired farmer could sit in rest
It was supposed to be a river
Meandering across scary deserts
For tired travelers on paupering roads
To quench their thirst
It was supposed to be a fruited tree
For all in hunger
A calmer for all in anger
A shelter, for all to treasure
A moral wholesale, for all to measure
A priceless home for all troubled, struggling and happy
But what do we see?

II
Money has bought the foresight of all
Trashing morals in clothes of fecal wealth
Trashing help in pants of corruption
Throwing God’s love to the wind
Like ashes in a tsunami
Why won’t masses push for an overthrow?

III
We build our forts on trust
In blinded googles
We build our thoughts on worship
On mis-sighted men in arranged accoutrements
We bank our hope on foxes in wool
Thinking others sinners
Fearing the devils in space
Locking our doors with our enemies
And sleeping so soundly
Of what use is God’s man who stashes food
When stomachs cry in thunder of famine?

IV
It is sad that the world has seen this day
Where holes live on holiness
And every ant has a choice to lead to feed
Or sit to be fed on
The heart of God is really bigger than man and his beholdings
Indeed!
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © August 11, 2018