Miss Red Poem by Myra Jefferson

Red was my Mama
They called me Little Red
Sometimes I think I see her
But it's just my reflection instead
I'm the spitting image of her
From my neck to my fiery head
She's gone now and I'm the Queen Mother
That bakes the Manna bread

You can call me Sister Paradox
Or Hermeneutica, it's all cool
Even call me Sister of Mercy
Just don't call me a fool

I'm misunderstood, misused, and mistaken
Misinformed and sometimes misled
Misinterpreted and often misquoted
But mostly I'm just misread