Ain't Love Grand?

I've been asked to help marry two different couples come this May. Here is a poem for the grooms. Sometimes mixed messages are the true message. Think about it, son.

Submission

 Look at your woman, son

God did good, didn’t he, boy
When he formed that pretty creature
In the middle of her mama’s womb
Did God make her second rate, son
Second rate to you?
Is she somehow different flesh
Weaker flesh, woman flesh?
And you are?
What?
Her master in this marriage bond?
Does your love condescend, son?
Do you love her like your dog?
Is that what you think?
 
Look at your woman, son
God did good didn’t he, boy.
So she is the handmaid of the Lord?
Are you more than the butler?
God said she was a helpmeet.
You take that to mean, then
That you are not?
Well . . . ,
God told her, submit
And you to love
You take that to mean
That she gives in and you don’t?
Then hear your meaning back
She‘s got no mandate to love you, Jack
Only yessah massa
To your back
Ooo, Ooo, Ooo
What are you to do?
 
Look at your woman, son.
God did good didn’t he, boy.
Look in her eyes . . . up close
And listen to your heart.
 

 

Curt Mortimer