I am her descendant: my mother
I am her enduring legacy
Adam’s undoing at Eden
Like her, I wrestle with complaisant indulgence
but most of all, I’ve preserved her
many hours of investing in copious powders
yielding the desired outcome of inflaming
that rod jangling in your jeans.
Nature has hardly formed me unattractive;
even when belied by an asymmetrical visage,
betrayed by a firm, masculine chin,
piercing eyes, hair frizzy and unpleasant
that lauds a sculptor for a rework,
still, beauty is my due—my heritage.
Is this truth too gross to swallow?
Beauty is a woman; if my face is not oval
or set on finely formed shoulders
but so shocking that I must, to some degree
be conscious of its geometrical anomalies,
I trust my figure and air to make ample amends.
If my frame is deformed, my face counterpoises,
if both are unsightly, I take delight in my grace
a je ne sais quoi.
Confidence is more engaging than allure –
an undoubted, uncontested, conscious beauty
that is unfading but inverse to youth’s endearments.
Every woman is beautiful, yet not all are;
still, beauty is my due – my heritage.
© Ugo Nkwoala | TheVillageGong | 2020
Featured image: A Summer is a painting by Horacio Cardozo