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.