My pastor says paganism is prison of soul
Its profit is pain
Its purpose is pitiable
And its pleasure is a plague
So you must convert or lose me”
Mercy Opoku says without lifting her eyes to meet his

Prempeh prepares to meet her pastor on a rainy day
He sits in front of the holy man like a pig turned lamb
…led to the alter by the rope of love
And listens as he preaches damnation
For minutes leading to hours
Before opening his mouth

“If I understand you
All humans must choose to worship a God whose messengers live not in our time
…know not half of our problems
A God who made those messengers write our laws
…knowing not many of the flaws of today
A God whose only sign are churches
…can I add mosques?
Oh sorry, there is enmity between Christianity and Islam
Well, even among Christians and Christians
Muslims and Muslims
And people who worship this God through his creations like the rivers
…stones, trees among others
…will be cast in unquenchable fire after death?
My question is
Who has died,
…got rotten,
…and come to testify that many are struggling in deathland?”

The pastor picks on the story of the resurrection of Christ
But Prempeh is still not convinced
“So those who have not tasted moths beneath the earth
Wrote of the plights of those who have
To imprison those who live today
To live on eggshells in hope of living well in death?
I’d rather live well with the body with an expiration
Than live a caged soul in rage
After death which promises nothing but ancestral spirits”

Prempeh turns to Mercy
“I give you up
Continue to live in your pastors’ rehearsed speeches
As they mooch on you like leeches
Freedom is living with a conscience which knows good and bad
…pain and pleasure
…love and hatred
…beauty and rot
…life and living it
And choosing the appropriate to live your truth
My paganism is mine to love
Worshipping the beauty of the rivers
…the strength of the mountains
…the songs of trees
…the freedom of nature
Knowing an Omnipotent God created them all is my call
So live in your prison in this life
And watch me live in the prison of the afterlife
It is no cheating if we both taste prison
…here or there
That is the beauty of choices”

That is how the pagan left the church
…as the sky applauded by putting a stop to its tears of rain
…heartbroken but awake through the fake brake of the preacher
Holding on to the gift of his ancestry
Thinking it better than a love he could replace with time
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia Β© July 26, 2020

By amoafowaa

Just a simple Ghanaian trying to find the best in our society. I may be fun, I may be interesting, I may be funny, I may even be foolish or intelligent, but it is all based on the mood in which you find yourself. I believe our minds make us who we are. Know that, pain, no matter its 'unbearability', is transient. Unburden or delight yourself for a while in my writings please. And all corrections, advice and opinions are welcome. Know that you are the king, queen or royal on this blog. :)

6 replies on “PREACHING THE PAGAN”

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