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Define "Control"

 I love the way the wind blows through my hair

Sending the curls in every possible direction 

Like wild tendrils reaching for the sky,

Dancing to nature’s whispered melody.


I love the way the sun illuminates 

My honey colored-highlights 

Beautifully casting rays of sunshine 


I love the way the heat radiates 

Against my shiny casted hair 

Sparking a beautiful glow 

Like embers catching light at dusk.


I love the way 

My hair emanates with the sweet smell of coconut 

every strand carefully coiled to perfection

Like nature’s own ringlets kissed by the tropics.


I love the sound of the my curls when they crunch 

whispers secrets to the breeze,

A soft rustle, like leaves in early spring.


I love the way

My hair curls like the roots of trees under rich soil 

Twisting and yearning 

Deeply Grounded yet reaching for the warm sun 


I love the way 

My hair springs with excitement with every crunch

A chorus of soft snaps,

Like autumn leaves beneath gentle footsteps. 


I love the way my friends compliment my hair

Vying for its attention 

Their fingers weaving through curls,

Like kids chasing their dreams


I love my hair,

And I'm so glad,

Because there was a time when

I would straighten it till my eyes burned,

Because I hated how each curl defied control,

How my roots spoke a language I hadn’t learned to love.

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