Hair Today
For Ma
This is my mothers hair
growing wildly from atop
my head. Never needing curlers
or perms, whose ringlets splash freely,
down against my face, growing for ancestral
honor to a woman of strength and wisdom and to
a line that lived and loved with passion. My curls caress
me like the soothing kisses and warming arms of a mothers love.
Hairball
Don’t judge me by my flowing tresses
or the facial hair of my grandfathers father.
I am not the TV villain or a worthless neer do well.
Get past the cover and open this book. Partake the story.
There is sadness and joy, conflict and pain, an unwritten ending…
a story of love, full and striving to gather in more life and spread its wings.
| 
Email this Poetry
| 
Add to reading list
