Look at my hair, this is who I am.
There’s history in my hair please don’t touch, handle with care.
It’s the same as this perfect pigment,
this melanin I wear
Richly rooted in my blood
Whether dark or fair
Sun-kissed and kinked in bliss
More love for my ‘rough n tough Afro puff’
She shines like the Sahara sun
She smells like the salt of the gold coast sea.
There’s a hint of the bittersweet seed of the cocoa tree.
Feels like the pillow that holds all your dreams with the dry Harmattan wind brushing against your cheek
She’ll whisper secrets of the motherland… If you get close enough
She holds like Mina
Curls with pride
Falls with grace and integrity.
Stubborn like the struggle of the ones before me.
Gravity-defying masterpiece that’s just a single piece of me, a reminder of my ancestry.
It’s my glory, my covering.
