Crowded pews and empty hearts
Are we worth the widow’s mite?
We sing hymns that proclaim love
Did we care about Jane’s sickness fights
Oh! Lerato had a miscarriage?
Oh! Mr Smith lost his marriage?


There’s a rumour that little Komla has been diagnosed with a tumor,
But what more? What more?
Beautiful tuxedos over walking torpedoes
“Jesus I love you,” but what do we do?
Rich kids’ grades don’t go over C’s
But they get to go overseas while the orphans hit all A’s
and only get “all hails”

Aw! Hell!

All hail to the man who died for us
He expects us to do same for Charles,
For Miriam,
And for the woman who lost her child!
Crowded pews and empty hearts!
Some go to church and some go to “pchurch”
With silent P’s
Silent pain, silent problems, silent pride, and mostly silent ‘psins’

Who are we to judge George?
Preachers turn puppets on pulpits…
So many grey areas we turn to prayer aliens in our own city.
The mayor’s in the church
The woman who cleans the seats also.
Who is greater? One who sits at the table or the one who serves?