Father

by Oyindamola Shoola

“FATHER!!! I wanna be your
Bureau de Change!”
is what I heard Sade
shout at the altar.


”Father, Maldives will look good on my skin,
so will being Cubana or Otedola’s pikin.
Father, relocate me to Canada,
so my backyard can be America.”


”Father, I wanna ride a Tesla
but I can use Porsche to stroll in Abuja
and the key to a Rover
will fit my ring finger.”


As I knelt at the altar to say my prayer
Sade screamed, ”DEAR FATHER!!!
let my enemies die by fire.”


Dreading my thoughts as sin,
I couldn’t help but to wonder
when God became a car dealer
or a personal assassin.