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Writer's pictureCAFTA Co. Writer

Almost Sunday

Writer: Lwando Mhlabeni

 

It’s almost Sunday

Mom has her church uniform ironed,

She sings along as she folds her skirt,

She waves her waist as she worships her Lord.


It’s almost Sunday,

And I’m about to argue with Mom,

We’ll argue about the hypocrisy pastor has,

We’ll argue about the many things I hate about that place.


Mom will preach to me,

She’ll tell me about how I praise the devil

She’ll lecture me about salvation

She’ll attempt to convince me that Christ is the only way


It’s almost Sunday,

I’m about to be forced to listen to pastor,

I’m about to be told about tithe,

They’ll tell me to give, to receive


Pastor will be coming in with a fancy car

He will dig deep into the pockets of the poor,

The poor and hopeful,

Those blinded by faith and artificial optimism


It’s almost Sunday,

Mom will tell me about God’s love,

Yet I still crave for her love.

It’s almost Sunday

And I hate going there.

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