Your Hair Has Tree Rings

I have been here before.
My hair has its story.
It’s had its journey.
It’s been with me through a lot.
It’s been with me through many versions of me.
It’s me and my identity, after all.
My hair has tree rings.
My hair has tree rings.
You can count the seasons.
You can see when I was healthier, or slavish.
You can see the world being sick.
You can see breakups,
and youth being kidnapped.
My hair has seasons.
It’s damaged, gently, from work.
It’s strong.
It’s post-trauma, yet growing.
It’s a lot to take.
It takes a lot to grow hair hoping that someone can use it.
I wish to give it to anyone else,
someone deserving.
In honor of someone I never knew, but felt like I did.
For someone I’ll never know and never did,
I give them…me.
It looks cute doesn’t it?
I think you needed to hear that.
You know, I enjoy caring for others, but so what?
So what?
Is the audience ok?
It’s ok now.
Am I doing this right?
Does your hair have your story?
Does it have your journey?
Has it been through a lot?
Has it been with you through many, many versions of you?
It’s hard to do everything right.
Isn’t it?
It’s a lot of heat on you to do everything perfect.
I care about you.
All this love I have refuses to die inside me.
How you take care of yourself is how you do everything.
Your hair has tree rings.
You can count the seasons.
You can see when you were healthier, or slavish.
You can feel your hair.
Don’t get jealous now.
Don’t grieve me.
I’m ready for my second day.
I love you, after all.
I love you so much.
I love you Mikayla,
and I give you my hair.
I love you.
I’ll never know you.
I love you.
And I’ll never…I’ll never know you.

I guess I have to get my photo taken now.