Haircut
I conquered a fear today,
Sitting in a barber’s chair.
Amongst pink walls and shanti style,
With reggae playing behind my head.
The shears pulsed against my skin,
Cutting away masks of perfection.
Clip, clip, clip.
My hair falls to the ground.
And I remember that day in the shower,
Where my hair fell out in clumps and
A parallelism is brought to me:
The clippers are in my
Hands.
When life clipped away as it wished,
My ends grew into vines,
That blossomed this life before me.
Clip, clip, clip.
So, here I sit,
Touching my nape.
Euphoric in the barber’s chair.
– Porridge: A Memoir
A memoir about life after death, and a little girl who nearly lost her life after her father lost his.
Here’s the first part if you missed it: Hair
