Religion is Sick - Hilary Richard Sam


O Religion, you are very sick!
Filled to the brim with deceit and greed,
You lend yourself the umbilical cord
For the poor, the frustrated and the ailing.
Aren’t we all under the weather?

An invisible entrepreneur, you are.
In the howling storm, you offer relief,
Intangible products, displayed on your shelves
At prices that leave our pockets empty,
And yours full. It’s your little secret.

You are in bed with politicians!
The very virus causing our ailment?
Irony is a shaggy dog story.
No wonder your profits are not taxed.
A charity? The richest industry, I say.

You make more money in a day
Than weekly transactions on the stock market.
Through sermonization of prosperity
Your congregation question not your objectives
For fear of offending God.

You shout your goodness from the roof tops.
Materialism and consumerism has replaced your love;
You seek and ask for respect amongst men do.
Compassion has lost its place in your heart,
Dining and wining amidst the suffering of the feeble?

The old way of worship is no longer fitting,
'Tis the season when we enjoy the fruits
Of our fathers’ labour, your homily delivered.
Give, believe and you will receive;
Truth twisted to outfit a selfish generation.

O Religion! A miracle we implore for thee.
You no longer trod the long narrow road,
Because you are so fat, partially blind and lame.
Your celebrity status is costumed by arrogance,
You have found solace on earth.

O Religion, in your affliction, you forgot
The very canon you preached for centuries,
The miracles you demand from Onyankopon -
How sick you are, testing the Lord God?
Implore His mercy, and turn away from your sins.
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