Makes me think that ...
Through eons, I have been defined, when did I ask?,
First, as one of six out of Africa, in who’s genepool I bask.
My Neanderthal mix, truly interracial blood imbibed,
My skill as a hunter, thus my importance to the tribe.
My skin colour, eye colour, human spectrum legibility,
The number of my concubines and children, my fertility.
The size of my feet or any other such physical shred,
The slope of my forehead and the bumps on my head.
The lines on my palms and the shape of ears and face,
My religion, my political leaning and my social grace.
My blood type, dental records, auras’ colour devotion,
My fingerprint, my Intelligence and Empathy Quotient.
My dexterity how am I handed, my sexual tendency,
My Myers-Briggs profile, my inherent dependencies.
My genetic make-up, informed through DNA review,
My biometric footprint and retinal response, as I view.
My brain activity captured by neural pathway analysis,
Body Mass Index, this fast twitch nerve reaction passes.,
More than a measure, a reading or a type, as this man
Don’t define me, leave me, just let me be all that I can.
Many of us are defined by the work we do and how society views that work on the ladder of respect. Many writers may have us believe that organisational authority, professional respect are defined by the ephemera of our job role and even its title. It is more than that though.
Interestingly, as a senior manager in UK industry, Loot pauses to reflect for a moment on other dimensions that some use to define him as manager and as man.
This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell a British female voice over artist who is graciously supporting WorkInWords.
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