ANOTHER SUNDAY WITH NO FLOWERS

Noise. Shivering woofers. Perfumes. Hurrying. Traffic.
Ironed shirts. Trousers &
A book that is seldom opened

A pastor is throwing his fist and feet
in the air like an excited neonate
shouting “God!”
like one high on wild weeds
women are warming up to tell
testimonies of miracles & fiction

A woman is holding beads in her hands –
she thinks she is holding God
She is moving her lips
as her fingers count the chain of beads;
doing the math of her sins
and that of her children
that she wants forgiven

another place is joy
ladies will fling hips & big bums here
& there
Men will nod their heads like lizards
to the rhythm of a wild gospel-song drummer

A clergyman is dressed in a white man’s suit
driving a Porsche, stealing glances at
& ignoring a beggar
as he drives past
a widow trekking to church
holding her tithes tight
how dare you approach the lord
with an empty hand.
——————-
Poem © Trust Tonji
Image: Pixabay.com remixed