Skip to main content

ME, [UN] BRAIDED by Barbara Simmons

 

Me, [un] Braided

by Barbara Simmons

 

Mornings meant braids, my hair divided into

three long pony tails, right side, left side, middle,

being undered and overed by mom’s fingers, 

caught by rubber bands, concealed by plaid ribbons

matching whatever I’d be wearing. 

Neat. Tidied up, braided, ribboned, bowed, 

no hair flying in my face:

contained. 

I remember saying goodbye to braids, 

graduating to pony tails, one long streaming motion

much like wings on Achilles’ heels,

liberating me from barrettes that kept me kempt, 

permitting unruly to be all right.

 

Later, I would brush my hair, long and wild,

imagining a halo round my head swirling,

circling, wildly catching everything from snow to pollen,

all the seasons in every follicle, 

until I heard my mother say unkempt,

my hair all tangled, snarled, 

her words upbraided me,

sent me to shears, the sheer freeing

cutting all that hair off, heard me say yes

and yes and yes again to being shorn and edged. 

Gone was long hair.  I would slowly learn

to plait the many strands

I needed to become my braided self, 

without my mother’s help,

without her ribbons, without her rules, 

but always with unraveling possibilities.




Barbara Simmons grew up in Boston, resides in California—both coasts inform her poetry. A graduate of Wellesley College, she received an MA in The Writing Seminars from Johns Hopkins, and an MA in Education and Counseling from Santa Clara University. A retired educator, she continues to savor life and language, exploring words as ways to remember, envision, celebrate, mourn, and try to understand. Publications have included Santa Clara Review, Hartskill Review, Boston Accent, NewVerse News, Topical Poetry, DoubleSpeak, Soul-Lit, 300 Days of Sun, Capsule Stories – Summer Editioni, Swimming, Journal of Expressive Writing,  and her recently published book, Offertories: Exclamations and Disequilbriums, (Friesen Press), and Sweeping, Not Swept Away, her chapbook from LocalGems (Poetry Press).



*For submission guidelines, click here.* 


Comments

  1. wonderfully stated..... and so relatable....a delightful and thoughtful read!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love it. I wrote a poem on a similar theme about my childhood ringlets! Strange how we carry these things with us!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Ga...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...

MIRABAI'S POETRY by Caitanya Dasi

Much of the mystic love poetry from India revolves around musical and theatrical expressions that portray the loving relationship between the soul and God… One such celebrated relationship was that between princess Mirabai and her divine beloved, Krishna. Born in the sixteenth century  into a noble Rajput family, Mirabai married into a family that did not take fondly to her devotion to God. Consequently, she went from royalty to mendicant, and decorated her spiritual path with poetic songs. I first heard of the great poet, Mirabai in the early 1970’s while I was living and studying bhakti yoga at the Hare Krishna temple in Los Angeles, California.  As I had a background in the performance arts Mirabai’s life instantly spoke to me. Her fusion of spiritual sentiments with song resonated with my passion for music, drama, dance, and the devotional path to loving God. In 1968 I serendipitously met a devotee by the name of Mirabai, who taught me that the perfectio...