The preacher tells me things,
Things that make me sweat,
Things that make me want to hold my hormones.
Last Tuesday,
After Bible study he told me I am beautiful like his mother.
Perhaps he meant like his daughter,
The preacher is married and with three kids.
Maybe he meant I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
So I let it slide.
On Wednesday,
After choir practice ,
Brethren Abednego held my hand, when we were saying the grace.
The preacher was restlessness like a cow on heat ,
He did not close one eye.
The preacher called me in his office
He patted me on my shoulder,
He told me to stop playing with small boys still learning to walk.
The preacher is really confusing,
As we speak , he is giving me sleepless nights.
On Friday ,
During a revival,
I said my prayer request was to find a husband,
The preacher held my hands and rubbed them,
He started praying,
He even spoke in tongues and went all rabababae on me,
He then whispered in my ear,
That he could be my stand by generator in the meantime.
The preacher is now testing my demons.
I have decided to fast,
Maybe call fire upon him just like Elijah.
YOU ARE READING
I Will Find My Own Sky
PoetryA collection of poems 4th place in Kuru Family Awards. I discovered, They were normal, Way too normal. And there I was , Just a sad girl, Dying to unlearn being NORMAL.
