Let It Be Free
I throw my head back, I’m untied, without pride. My hair falls loose from this hold, a fresh breeze runs gentle tracks on my scalp. I grew tired of this hold, my roots were tugging at my skull. The system had tried to contain it. Ma’am said “you can’t leave your hair loose”.
You knew that untamed, I could grow a staircase to the sky. Hair that grows up would be unreachable from the ground. This magic in me, moves with me magnificently. I let my hair loose and remembered that this flowy mess always felt mine.
Remember child, that the wind blows but your hair clings to the sky and doesn’t fall down.
Let these brown girl locks be free.
Prose by Kea Mooka
Photo by Sameera Soorjee Photography