I Love My Grey Hairs
I love the grey hairs at my temples
and stretching down to touch
the wrinkle in my brow.
I love these soft hairs on my arms, my legs,
the little ones on my knuckles
and the tops of my toes.
I love, these last few years,
the tin rogue that grows
under my chin.
I love my grey hair. Of course I do!
This hair is my family's gift to me.
This brown hair is from Ireland and England.
This blonde part is from Norway, Germany too.
A bit of red from Scotland if you look closely
and every 64th strand or so,
a black Choctaw lock.
But this grey, I made.
This one is from working every day to build a life.
That one from trading sleep for singing lullabies.
I love my grey hair.
The colors, I was given, but this grey
is a washing away of my chromosomal text,
a step to the next stage.
It's the me that I freely show, proudly displayed. I love my grey hair.
What power within me! To color, to erase.
Stronger than the words I speak or the expressions on my face.
I love my grey hair.
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