It hasn't been any different from what I sought,
That bottle of oil my wife had bought
To save our son we gracefully begot.
Borges was our patrimonial argot
But "He" asked, "Is that all you've got"
Who then is He?
The man who baptized we.
"He" represents all false prophets,
Who studied the holy pamphlets
And to amass for their own pockets,
Deceive the religious illiterates
To unbind any ties with soul mates
Hence, sanitizing their thinking cups.
This is how we lost hope,
Our faith in him was so dope
Trusting he could help us cope,
But Rev Father Corona was an expired coke
Who had semblance of a good Pope.
You have a child with deformity we were told,
A son of about thirty minutes old,
Being our first time is why we felt cold
However, if Fennel and I were then bold
This story wouldn't today unfold.
With nurses mimicking the unfortunate road he plied,
Its Iris appear red, brown, yellow like dyed.
Simply, our kid was declared a one-eyed
As the doctor made retarding sighs
While examining his left and right eyes.
Amidst fear, panic and fury,
And a child in my arms like armoury,
We left without hearing the doctor's caution,
That sunlight was a blend concoction
Locally used in such a simple situation.
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