Why God Gave Me Curls

Soft curls from the root downward spiraling,
Entwining in clusters, thick and inseparable,
They cling together like best friends...
And these strands are strong—

They protect each other
    From becoming weak and brittle,
    From snapping off under pressure
    From the dullness of drying out...

They move as one:
Supporting one another as they
Stretch for European lengths and aesthetics...
They coil back into themselves with ease
—but sometimes with damage...

They embrace each other lovingly
Despite the irregular twists and turns
The abnormal shapes of S's and Z'z...

This melting pot of friends are survivors.

Creamy crack addictions to chemicals
    —they curl and coil together
395 degrees, searing punishment for defiance
    —they curl and coil together
Drowned in lather, oils, water, products
    —they curl and coil together


A story on my head,
Of survival
Of friendship
Of love
Always, in the mirror
Always waiting to be shared.


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