Curls

Written & Illustrated by Tia

The curls of my hair
hold tales in themselves,
the greatness of which
baffles me.

It is witness
to my mother’s dissatisfaction
of living on this land
as a woman.

It is a bearer
of the loneliness
of standing out.

My curls,
hold the grounded weights
of the chaos of society and change.

Now,
it has become
an artefact 
of my past,
my present,
and the choices I would make
to create my future.

Time and time again,
my curls
have turned themselves,
to a symbol of strength. 

They stood
against the tests of oppression,
the tests of form
and obedience.

In their undefined frizz,
they hold together
the history of me,
my wars,
and the proof
of the everchanging woman in me.

Like the branches of a Banyan Tree
my curls contain the stories
of my ancestors
and my grandchildren,
all in one beat…