Fineries Of Faith

"Fear man and not phantoms"
Grandpa says when I ask him
Of his greatest fear
"The fineries of faith" are what
Keeps my hair standing on edge.
Devotees all white -claden.
Tell me, what will we find when
We strip their finery?
Just a priest with ravenous secrets
Clearly unwell for making
His daughter visit the abortion clinic.
Lifting distressful hands to say "grace",
Hoping his "god" will help save
face!
The poor -rich "burger" in the second pew also has such finery.
Hers she acquired from hawking
Her body on the frozen Harlem streets
Right after crying on the grave of dreams.
"May He bless you" the usher utters
When she gives a huge tithe
As if He could be assuaged by such mundane bribes!
"Are you listening?!"
I had to made sure you were
The fineries of faith abound
And that's what we all wear
From the ebony slave in Timbuktu
To the finely clad sultan of Brunei,
From his excellency in Osu
To zainabu in Yakwei
Closing our eyes to reality
To dreamily pray in faith
"Amazing grace"
Mere fallen apples from poison trees.
"Very relevant to our societies
It seems."