Days later, the well-respected man stood at the front door
his silk suit and tie graced the floor:
his sly smile had fooled my mother's lore.
.
"Lawyers are for the people; they argue each case,"
her candid remarks never stood to date,
he never held frankness,
only deceitfulness:
his mendacious intentions had tricked her charitable weakness.
.
I never trusted the man's charm
where he greeted the weak, long and far,
a widow to an older man,
She just wanted a lover at hand.
.
He joked and she giggled
my body trembled;
where one day, he had misused her amiable trust,
and had left her crumpled like a wilted husk.
.
I had just returned home,
My mother had lain on her bedroom floor,
crying, bleeding, painfully screaming,
red cheeks and hot tears, steaming.
.
He had stolen her naivety, her pureness,
one that so many men unveiled through disgracefulness --
I helped her stand, head tall and upright,
and we marched to Pastor Light!
.
The reckoning shall persecute his mane,
Black sheep unmasked the game,
where my mother was assaulted,
by a well-respected man whose lies were proudly exalted.
His smile distorted, the truth contorted,
one whom the village supported.