My Curly Hair Defines MeA Poem by TyMy Curly Hair Defines MeMy curly hair defines me. From it's roots It's my roots, my truth, the way I see. I don't hide. It's just me, Taking shade under these Weeping Willow trees. Mother, father, this and that, white and black, My daughter. My son. Johnson. Baldwin, Malcolm, The Great Marguerite Annie, It's Maya Angelou to you. Martin, Cecil, Medgar Evers, and Langston Hughes' music tunes, Notes infused The way I groove, All instilled from youth, Don't worry about the creams I use. Certainly doesn't begin with Granny's tomb; But further back, "Is your magic strong enough to cross this water?" She reaches out to Common. Words that should be uncommon, "All too common, we'd use this term; You can take that content and pour it into Bavarian crystal, but it’s still poison." Yeah, there's a little extra melanin in my skin, Strands thick as vines, will be some time before my hair runs thin. Some stiff as pines, you know, that needle-shaped leaf. Unapologetic, tough, and raw, My curly hair defines me.
© 2017 TyFeatured Review
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