A Spat With the Man In My Mirror
I’d hang my head in shame
The day I stop querying the man in my mirror
Whose name I’d associate with blame
For daring to conceal the fear and tear
My conscience weeps as the man fails to keep
Promises made to me from the day the avatar
Chose to defend every noble cause I hold dear deep
Within every pore my conscience drives far
Away from consideration beyond contestation
To preserve my dignity and sanity
As I query motives driving the man’s orchestration
Of assets and precepts whose vanity
I feel betray skills God bestowed on me
To add value to the truth to serve humankind
To the best of my ability, to work like a bee
In a honeycomb when shame covers my face if I should find
Joy in oppressing the weak
Misleading the poor in my tour of duty
Where I’m better off dead up the creek
Than alive and dead inside enjoying the booty
Dishonesty, disrespect and total disregard
Landing within my grasp when by stealth of hand
I project the man in my mirror to the vanguard
Despite his puny performance and corny romance that stand
Me in bad stead
On the scale of probity
At work and in my homestead
Where the money in my kitty
Itches to switch off every machine that keeps me in suspended animation
Between a lie and a dye that colour my hair black to spite the grey
Hair from which I draw acclamation
To bless my Creator to whom day and night I pray
Begging for forgiveness for the man’s foibles
As in anger I break the mirror, vowing to reform the man
If he should remain a friend of mine not in fables
But in real time provided the man chooses to accord any woman
The respect she deserves not because of her beauty
But because in my God’s grand scheme women
Matter more as equal partners who no naughty
Men should treat less respectfully than they treat men.
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