Dear Leslie,

I was born, like a saint into a Christian home –
For colonialism had taken over and thawed somewhat
…before my birth
But I now live as a traditional worship sympathizer
…and worship the actions of good people

See, I was a devoted Christian
But the more I grew, the less I saw God in the actions of fellow Christians here
I was as dedicated as anyone could be
I prayed for others as I did for myself
And lived learning the word
All that changed over the years

Because I see the sense in worshipping the rivers
Aren’t they the gods which quench our thirst?
I see the sense in worshipping the sun
Isn’t it the light which lights our days?
I see the sense in worshipping the air
Who lives without breath?
I see the sense in worshipping the mountains
They whose pates, grant us vast seeables
I see the sense in worshipping trees
Which stand for men and help with oxygen
I see the sense in worshipping rains
Which bless our land, to help us feed
And I love that nature discriminates not
It blesses all who abide by their rules

My religion is worshipping the good
Who fight corruption and die from desperation
My religion is loving the good
Who try to live even through their worst
My religion is loving the kind
Who help the needy and act not greedy
My religion is helping others
With my little to make life fair

I cringe when I see some of my people
Get paralysis under the ghost of a holy God
Whose skin is white
…and hair flows
…with blue eyes
A ghost of the Holy God
Which stood as our people were slaughtered
…branded animals
…and turned into slaves

It saddens my heart to see many convulse under this God
This God whose son looks nothing like us
And I am doubtful, as you, as to whether that God is male

I dislike the fact that many will die for that God
That God who many evangelicals think
…have shared beliefs in the animalism of the Black
I cry when I see the worship of this God as a ticket for
…and self imposed priests and priesteses acting Gods and calling for a worship

Is that all?
Leslie, they use this colonial religion to steal from the poor
Who use their last breaths to defend them
By telling them their needs would be resolved
If they give their all
And the poor do not see their all will include their lives
It shames me to see mere clay being sold to humans with brains
As they give their last pesewa to starve their stomachs
…and to let hunger kill their children

Worst of all,
I am seen as Satanic
Because I have seen the light of truth
I am branded demonic
Because I won’t let a God imposed, dig in me vulnerabilities which will have me chained
I am an evil spirit
Because I worship not their European God through his son Jesus Christ
If I may ask,
Who worships his father through his brother?
I am the insane bitch who is a deviant among them
Asking questions deemed blasphemous
But do I care?

My mother has cried
My god mother did admonish
My friends have taunted
Few of my lovers have begged
…me to consider worshipping the God brought from abroad
But I have remained resolute in my stance
Worshipping the good in people and myself
And learning from the bad

Do you know?
Do you know I have been taunted in a church before I grew?
Called poor and shamed in front of a congregation?
Do you know?
Do you know I have been wooed by a priest?
One who could have raped me had there not been a locked gate and a high fence?
Do you know?
Do you know I am penniless
Because my son’s sickness was a Christian bait
One my mother fell into
And ended up draining my pocket thinking it could heal him?
Yet they see nothing from the deception
The ghosting
The fake promises
And the scary prophesies!

So I am here
I pray like a Christian
But I pray to the God of nature
I am here
I worship not in temples
…but in the four corners of my humble abode
I am here
Here where God is impartial
Here, where God has no spokesperson
Here, where God is my creator and not my father
Here, where God is that being awaiting my remains
Even before pushing for my birth
Working in magnanimity to direct my course
I worship the earth
I worship the sky
I worship every wow in every how
I worship the moon
I worship the stars
I worship every success in every can’t
I worship me
I worship you
I worship love
This is my religion
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © September 17, 2021

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. :)

4 replies on “A LETTER TO LESLIE”

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