Black Poets Society: New Growth

Jā Corbett-Sparks
By Jā Corbett-Sparks The Black Lens

I decided to grow my hair for my birthday last year.

There is no symbolism in that at all and as much as I want to, I’m not going to mislead you this time.

I focused on how much I lost and I figured it was time for recovery.

They don’t tell you that the same discipline to rebuild feels like similar to just cutting it all.

But off I went,

running to my mother:

“Mommy I want for nothing but this gift you gave me at birth.

Im sorry I’ve let strangers play in my hair.

I’m sorry I let the stress take the importance away.

I’m sorry I settled in looking my worst, when you’ve instilled your best in me.”

Her face softened by my sincerity,

Her eyes widened like I’ve kept cornrows in for a decade and I’ve finally asked for her to comb it all loose.

8 months later and I see her hands shake when she reaches to detangle my hair.

Gently I place my hand on hers.

“I’ve got it, Mom. You can trust me. I will wash every first Sunday. I won’t be out long enough for the sun to damage anymore.

Please allow me to show off this gift that I got from you.”

Everyday I look at the photos.

I stare at myself as I do in the mirror.

How could I be free with so much missing?

I hope my children don’t feel this free…because it’s uncomfortable.

It’s too fake to pass as truth.

But day after day,

I fill in the gaps

I find myself again

I love my hair.