By
Ngozi Olivia Osuoha
A STRANDED SOUL
Has our God gone on exile?
Have they banished and ostracized him?
Who ambushed Him that He could not escape?
Has politics done his worst?
Has religion crucified Him?
Have culture and tradition put Him to death?
O racism, did you kill Him?
Has Baal and his prophets overturned victory?
Did another angel rebel in heaven?
Have they drugged or mercy-killed Him?
Which coupist overthroned Him?
Who vanquished our God and declared himself victor?
Who bewitched our God?
Who tied His mighty hands and cut off His ears?
What manner of chains held His gigantic legs?
How did He disappear into the thin air?
Did the chief judge verdict death sentence on Him?
Or the military court martialed Him?
Which genocide swallowed Him?
Did the killing contest take Him?
Who dug the pit that contained our God?
Which fowler laid the snare?
Who constructed the trap that caught Him?
Which President refused Him amnesty?
Which people plucked off His eyes like Sampson?
Which designer made the veil that covered His face?
Why are we clueless on His whereabouts?
Did they hide Him in hell?
Who captured our God?
Have they made Him a war prisoner?
Which battle consumed our God?
Did He meet their angel of death?
Who beheaded or kidnapped Him?
How much ransom are they asking for?
Which army gunned down our God?
Which world war killed Him?
Why are there no more graves to contain the dead?
Why are the streets littered with decayed bodies?
Why are there only mourners at our gates?
Who murdered the Shepherd and scattered his flock?
Why is everywhere quietly desolate like a graveyard?
Who actually slaughtered our God?
O how I wish that He is here,
Asleep in this old and weary boat,
Tossed by wild tempest and storm,
Verily, He would hear me screaming,
Master! Master! Wake up!!
Don’t you care that we perish?
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