Untamed


My hair whose body never deflates
Whose curls twirl rebelliously against its chains of restraint
Whose depth swallows secrets and lies
Whose strands defy every prayer that it whispers
Whose shape embodies a mane
With the roar of a lion
A roar that paralyzes its prey into envy
My hair whose chastity takes root in the dirt of Eden
Whose layers scream chocolate, charcoal, and burgundy
Whose soul never fades under the cruelty of Apollo
Whose locks entangle themselves around the pillars of a pier
And encircle my ear like the fetal comfort of a new born child
Whose arms hold my shoulders in a warm embrace of hospitality
My hair whose ends stray from conformity
And are social activists against all authority
Whose strands of soldiers decreases with every execution
Who are fighting conspiracies of genocide
Whose scent is the Brazilian breeze
Sprinkled with forest rain
Whose length follows the heels of Achilles
With wings of bronze that tease in the wind
With the waves of an abandoned shore
With ends that crash against the docks of fishermen at daybreak
My hair with ends that are feathers of a blushing robin
My hair with ends that are straws of hay released from their bales

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