Monday, 22 February 2016

From Hair, To Eternity (February 22, 2016)


The song, "Hair," from the rock opera, "Hair"

Looking at
The ringing telephone.

A sad
But frustrated sigh
Escapes.

Knowing
Without picking up
The receiver.

How
The dread conversation
Will go.

In a negative way.

Rehashing
An old and stale argument
That runs
Along generational
And gender lines.

As if
The length
Of one's hair
Is a social taboo
Of the most grievous kind
One can commit.

Why
Should it matter
How long or short
A person's locks are.

If they are presented
In a neat
And attractive way.

By expressing
One's view
On gender
And sexuality.

It's only dead cells
Extruding
From one's scalp
After all.

Therisa © 2016

Author's noteFor about 5 month period, between 2005 and 2006, my mom would phone, almost, on a daily basis, long distance, asking me, if  I was ready, to get my hair, and wanted her, to pay for it. You would think, she get the message, after a month of saying, “No”, or not answering the phone. Even after, storming out of her car, at a local mall, and walking home, she, still didn’t get the message. Only, the intervention by someone else, did she stopped her harassment of me. Although, she wasn’t very happy, about the sight of me, growing my hair.


Since then, I had all of my hair cut off, as the 2007 perm, developed a life of its own, making combing my normally wavy hair, a royal pain, in February 2009. In 2014, a trim, to cut off, my spit ends and tidy up, my unruly mop.

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