At the mirror, I curse his heredity
Of premature balding, patchily retreating bristles over my brow
At a meeting, I curse his legacy
Of losing my cool, that short fuse, and lack of saykhel
At the dentist, I curse his DNA
Of bad teeth, decay, extractions, plates, and implants to come
At a party, I curse his bequest of
Niggling snobbery as I pre-judge the haves and have-nots.
Teach me, my wise Creator
To cherish the blessings bequeathed by him
The embracing smile
The astute discernment,
The fierce commitment to family,
and morality and justice and community involvement.
Of going the extra mile and never giving up
and loving his mother and my mother with consummate devotion that he was never embarrassed to display.
It has been set before me to choose, the curse or the blessing
To break the chain of grudge-bearing and choose life.