My Hair--
It is not something you can touch without my permission.
This halo given by god is sacred and its mysteries older than time himself.
Yes, my roots are thick. They reach into the ground and hold onto mother earth like a mother and her child. Supportive, strong, Sauvé—they don’t deserve to be straightened.
I know, my ends are twisted and wild. Like the thickest jungle and softer than a petal, it can never be properly tamed by any man made concoction.
No doubt, my color is not dyed. It comes from the deepest part of space and from the brightest crystals blessed by undisturbed slumber. In its glow babies smile and God –he laughs!
For real, the thickness comes from the depth of a mother’s love where you could easily, willingly even, get lost in and feel right at home. Compared to the oceans floor, it has no end.
So look, my hair has more faces than the moon can show in one month. Happy, bitchy, sad, silly, hot, heavy, enlightened, lovely—there is no limit to is line of credit.
You know, a lot of people try to get my hair. But it can not be bought. Oh, I have nothing against permed hair; it has its own beauties.
So please, don’t hate. Appreciate.
Because this is me as it is.
By: LaVana Colebrooke
It is not something you can touch without my permission.
This halo given by god is sacred and its mysteries older than time himself.
Yes, my roots are thick. They reach into the ground and hold onto mother earth like a mother and her child. Supportive, strong, Sauvé—they don’t deserve to be straightened.
I know, my ends are twisted and wild. Like the thickest jungle and softer than a petal, it can never be properly tamed by any man made concoction.
No doubt, my color is not dyed. It comes from the deepest part of space and from the brightest crystals blessed by undisturbed slumber. In its glow babies smile and God –he laughs!
For real, the thickness comes from the depth of a mother’s love where you could easily, willingly even, get lost in and feel right at home. Compared to the oceans floor, it has no end.
So look, my hair has more faces than the moon can show in one month. Happy, bitchy, sad, silly, hot, heavy, enlightened, lovely—there is no limit to is line of credit.
You know, a lot of people try to get my hair. But it can not be bought. Oh, I have nothing against permed hair; it has its own beauties.
So please, don’t hate. Appreciate.
Because this is me as it is.
By: LaVana Colebrooke