R-E-S-P-E-C-T

More than just a kickin' tune,
less than what's been shown here.
I've had it.
Not respect, that's the problem. Had it up to here
with the lack, as if it's a disease t
o be avoided at all costs. Today it ends.
Line drawn, but not in sand.
Nana's gone hard core.
Concrete. Hard as little hearts who think it's cool
to raise eyebrows or voices when they're told
what to do. Raise this, cupcake.
Try me. Talk back, complain, whine, delay,
go ahead. Make my day.
If you think I hate you,
decide you hate me,
I can live with that
if you grow up to be the sort of woman,
sort of man, who commands respect,
earning it back here in youth because
the ones in charge,
who pay the bills, by the way,
and call the shots,
choose to be responsible and
love you that much.


(c) Ellen Gillette, 2013