I didn’t plan to write three poems on hair and aging this week, but here (hair??) we are. I felt honored to be trusted with these words as they came to me, and I couldn’t wait to share them. Though I absolutely revel in the cooking up of words, the one part of poetry that usually feels a little sticky for me is coming up with titles. As I reflected on what themes united these short odes (beyond the obvious), I realized the crux - they so lovingly and firmly say “no” to shame.
Pick a part of your body, personality, identity that you’re afraid to view directly. Now cradle it in your palms, look it straight in the eye, and say with intention, “I see every part of you. And I love you.”
It’s the turning of the mirror that’s the hard part. That initial panic of confronting some part of you that you’ve passed judgment on. Maybe others have judged it, too. Can you hold it anyway? What happens when you approach with tender acceptance? When you embrace a perceived imperfection and welcome it back to the fold?
I invite you to give it a try this week. Find a safe space; be playful with it if you can. Full poem text below.
Curls Curls break like waves around her face, Tempests in morning, That early chaos. Light until roots guzzle air’s moisture, Til every fiber bloats under weight of its gluttony. Let it be heavy, Let it take up space. Let it flatten unflatteringly under helmets. Let the wind blow strands in her mouth, That delicate meal declined with a shake of her head. Let its volume fill books. Let the curls fester, Like Medusa’s snakes they writhe. They can hide her face. But brush them free with royal hand, Crown tall. Let them obscure her vision, not her worth. Lips “Good morning,” I say, to the hairs above my lip. “I’m so glad you’re here.” They move when I speak, yawning with the stretch of my lips. They are dark, un-shy in sun, and I wonder, can I be as bold as they? Can I grow back every time I am cut down, somehow even firmer in my own wild resistance? Can I appear, uninvited, with unfazed confidence? “Oh yes,” my lips say, and the hairs dance with joy. Tundra Streak of silver catches light Like a mirror holds the sun Mm, let that wisdom spread Til every hear is gray Tundra of my body’s radiance
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