Blood On The Altar – A Story by Kingwax Oluwadamilare


The whole congregation waits in anticipation
Sister Blessing will soon mount the podium
She will render the special dedication
Her voice will intoxicate them like the opium

Oh, sister Blessing
She is just like watching the angels sing
Oh, what a Blessing
There is none other like her our eyes have seen

The Church’s microphone must feel no other hand
The speakers must convey no other voice
The podium must feel no other dance steps
Except our own sister Blessing’s

No other Sister will love to try
Because they will never be good enough
Once sister Blessing is ready to drag
They will be left without a scent of pride

She murders their character
She destroys their self-esteem
She cares not what happens after
She must remain the only fish in the stream

Even with their over bloated anointing
The Pastors have refused to see
Even with their vague holy life
The elders have refused to notice

Blood cries from the altar
From the podium where sister Blessing loves to sing
Dead ambitions, assassinated characters
All scream with their talents in her grip

All hail Sister Blessing
The Angel is ready to sing
And bloods cry from the altar
But no one is ready to listen

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