by Harbani Kaur Ahuja
Mine is thin
and feels like silk
and it is beautiful
when a breeze sweeps it up
and blows it around my silhouette
like ribbons twirling and dancing.
My sister’s is rough and thick
and spirals in a long braid
which winds down her spine
to her knees
and swings side to side
with every step.
I still remember when mama
would brush our hair
when we were little girls
and weave long braids
and kiss us on the foreheads
and tell us we were beautiful,
that our hair was beautiful,
that it was a gift from God.
I would always be mesmerized
by how glamorous she looked
with her black hair down,
dripping water,
and wondered why
she would always tie it
into a tight bun
when it dried,
until I started doing the same
because it just looked cleaner that way.
But now I wonder
if hair was ever meant to be obedient;
why not just let it grow free and untamed?
Because I know my Guru
saw me
like a lioness
with a long wild mane
that flies as the wind carries it about
untouched by anything
but Mother Nature.
Sometimes I wear my dark mane out
and close my eyes
and feel it whirling around me
playing with the air
that carries the dust
of all my ancestors
that gave their lives
to protect this gift from God,
so that one day
I could be a princess,
with my dark long hair
as my crown.
And at those times
I can feel
the lioness
that hides
deep inside my soul
and I can’t help but wish I were stronger.
Source: http://harbaniahuja.blogspot.com/2011/10/lioness-mane.html
