learning to love (hair)

my Hair, my Crown
such a confusing adornment
for s t r a n g e r s.

history planted intricate designs on top of my head, and when i

Braid it, Twist it, rock an Afro, put it in a Puff or two and Cornrow a basket that carries the weight
of the world, my Crown blinds the blind who love to touch it on their own accord.

when i enter spaces that never consider me, my mind backstrokes over the edge of a waterfall
that hovers above a river of envy.

still, my Hair cannot be contained
like the thrashing of the sea as it sinks ships stenching of greed

nor will it be dictated how to grow, how to thrive, how to survive; it’s alive, a beating heart, pulsing
like a vein—why do you care how it breathes?

the neck breaking stares, and loud whispers, from s t r a n g e r s, in all their audacious forms, as their brains turn to mush, Goldilocks wouldn’t even touch, will never deflate its size as it sits with God.

history reminds me Kings and Queens plowed
fields for monsters larger than life

their salty tears moisturize better than Shea Butter because salt burns wounds to heal. so heal Younger me

let our gravity defying curls swirl as we whirl through life
towards flight as we light the Mother Earth ablaze
our Crown
a burning Phoenix in all its fiery rage.