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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).



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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

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