Hair

This poem was written after my dad passed away from cancer and is reflection on the first time he lost his hair after chemotherapy.

Hair

 

Salt and pepper

Trim and fine--definition.

Brushed to the side by your fingers.

Sweep and comb, sweep and comb.

Rhythmic, without thought.

Your gold ring pats it down.

It stays. Obedient.

 

But it rebels when it is told to.

Your swollen skull pushes it out,

Caressed away by a foreigner in your blood

Telling it to let go

And stay on your white pillow.

Salt and pepper patches.

 

Take control.

Clip it away.

Hide the emptiness.

                         

Let it grow back on your face.

Your chin and cheeks have stubble. 

Reviews

[olla]

I read this one first and it carried me on to the rest.. your work is well worth the visit.. welcome to the café..