The Minister’s Clay Feet…

He strutted and postured,
His fists pounding the podium from time to time,
In a bid to pontificate his points,
To give breadth to his enunciation’s.

His oily words rolled off his tongue,
Slick, cajoling and compelling,
To a crowd captivated by his glittering Italian shoes, which served in disguising his hideous clay feet,
His expensive shiny suit strained to contain his well rounded tub; fed fat by the grease of other hands,

His bugled eyes, beady, shrewd and greedy,
Stood out in his plump and shiny face,
With his wobbly rich jowls,
Bouncing with every step,

Amen; Shout Alleluia he bellowed,
Taking note of each and everyone of them,
Those whose envelopes bulged,
Those with the slimmer ones and those with none at all

He blessed the thieves, the roguery politicians,
And the lying tongue,
Nary a word of love or repentance was uttered at all,
Prosperity, Prosperity, Gain and more gain,
As his oily basket grew bigger by the second,

But the poor in their cast-offs,
A pity to behold, at odds with the glitterati,
Hardly a seat could they find in the pews nor warmth to enfold,
Whatever on Earth is happening to the Salt of the Earth?

What manner of pervasive erosion is leeching our hearts and our minds?
Robbing us blindly of our timeless essence and values;
And replacing them with decrepit morals,
Lack of conscience and loss of empathy,

Is it a wonder that the World is what it is today?
I guess not….,

The statement that says “you reap what you sow”, must indeed be true.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha