Our hair sings a thousand tales,
From flowing curls to braided trails,
From sculpted buns to locks held high,
Yet too often, they’re cast aside.
They speak of fashion, of being free,
Yet tame our textures endlessly,
Mini afros, rigid styles,
When boldness should be worthwhile.
Why hide, why smooth, why restrain,
What should be praised, not contained?
Our hair’s a canvas, fierce and bright,
A living art, a source of light.
Donna, Diana, queens of old,
Let their crowns shine, fierce and bold.
So why must we still compromise,
Between our truth and hollow lies?
Show it short, long, wild, untamed,
Massive, sculpted, never framed.
Let every curl take up space,
Without erase, without disgrace.
Virginie Lentulus
More poetry stories
You will also like
L'auteur
Bienvenue ! Mannequin voyageuse, je dévoile mon carnet d'adresses autour du globe, illustré par mes plus beaux clichés. Foodista aguerrie, retrouvez ma sélection de tables gourmandes et mes plus beaux shootings photos autour du monde.