Hair as my guard- A symbol of physical strength and instinct.
Our memories are caught and captured, grown from our roots and held in the strands of our hair. A tar black cloak covers my forehead parted like curtains. I pull the drawstring like a rolled
down stocking revealing a part of me I choose to blanket.
My hair holds my history, its length, a timeline of progression and commitment.
Growth, fertility, a symbol of seduction
Movement emerges behind my shoulders
Swaying and flickering my moods.
I pull you over my eyes with
A rope like strength,
My silk shield and armor.
I tip toe forward practicing courage
Unstained from the bruises I gave time to get to know.
I peek behind to watch the knotted past gently untangle,
As a long silver sleeve begins to dissolve.
A tough sensation begins to prance through my veins
As I stand flexible and focused, swallowing the loss in preparation for the repair.
My hair, my DNA, my very own grown tool.
It has bound experiences that have lay locked, contained, closed now exposed.
I throw my head down and touch the tangle as it hangs buoyant, Lusting for the ‘YOU’ that you!
The you hadn’t met yet.
There is you, there is only you.