"The Spots," A Poetry Post

In the end it was the
balding spots that
made me love my
natural hair.

I suppose I could have
preferred the straight look,
but I couldn't find it
anywhere.

I permed and pulled and
pressed and cut and
did all I could to
achieve success.

But as days went by,
in two weeks or less,
the kinky came back and my
hair looked a mess.

So what could I do?
I retouched when it krinkled,
and I hot combed my tresses
as soon as they wrinkled.

In time I would learn that
before forced to fake it,
my head would revolt and
traverse the earth naked.

I decided; I knew truly!
My head holds my greatest treasures!
The least I can do now is
treat my scalp a little better. 

So I cut off the damaged hair,
whatever bits were left,
and I grew back my kinky tresses
in the way that they love best.

When my hair asks me for water,
I embrace it in the bath.
And when my hair asks me for sun,
I wash and pick and let it go.

When my hair asks me for moisture,
I massage in the earth's oils.
When my hair asks for a breather,
I fluff it wildly and leave it so.

And that's why my hair is growing.
I believe it and I see.
I can't deny my very nature.
It is my hair.

It's just like me.

-T. D. James-Moss