Braids

I weave Africa into my daughter’s hair

Each braid wraps ancestral dreams

The love my grandmothers had for their daughters

With no time nor energy to offer it

I tie it in pink and pale blue elastic

The hope of cotton cut and weary fingers

Work joyfully out the cornrows of her head

I am reminded ever as I brush and tame soft tresses

That she is here that she is real

Not sold, not abandoned to alleviate the burdening cries of hunger that cannot be fed

And there is ribbon enough for her hair

She has length in locks her African cousins do not know

Her curls and twists carry the rape of her grandmothers

Their sorrow, their song, their art and their love

It is their heartbreak turned to triumph

Darling daughter never hang your head

Always keep it high your grandmothers tears are not in vain

She gave all for your safety and you now wear it in your hair

Never let nappy headed be a negative

You may lock it, twist it, braid it, curl it, cut it, whatever you like

But never forsake the hours it takes

Nothing easy is ever worth it

Our story is a difficult one just as every great tale is

don’t wish for the ease of straight hair not our own

don’t covet the freedom from time between mothers knees

the daughters of other tribes enjoy

for in this time I will give you our heritage

the gifts of our ancestors

I will teach you their song and their dance the love in their hands

Your grandmothers will still whisper to you each time you bring fingers to locks

Long after you leave my lap

Beauty your hair and hips we name seas and waves

dangerous and enticing mysterious and dark as forest night

Darling daughter we leave you this crown

Corona of sacrifice for you, child

Wear it proudly and remember us