You Are My Flesh and My Bone
If I were to say you are a fallen angel
I'd be insulting you.
Complimenting you to be beautiful,
But evil in your ways.
Comparing you to a fruit tree,
That has a breath of a rotten fruit.
Taking you as a drug that gives me strength,
Only to lose it and die because of its effect.
Like Eve in the garden of Eden,
Instead of being a helper, she became a burden.
If I describe you,
I'd be giving myself glory.
Rather unite with me,
So that we can share the glory.
Angels serve us, so how can I make you my maid?
Man are higher than angels,
So are woman because they're from man.
If you came from my ribs,
Shouldn't I try to keep you and re-unite my body structure?
I have sown you,
And now I have to reap the all of you.
You are my flash and my bone,
Ngizodla konke namathambo;
just to get my strength back.
I am the glory of God,
And you are my glory;
Thus, the pleasure to the sense of my mind.
You are beautiful beyond words,
For you were not created by words like plants and seas,
But by my body; without you I'm incomplete.
You are an artist,
And art is your offspring.
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