poeming on the wednesday after cutting my hair


An Ars Poetica for Cutting off Hair

Wake up, even if you weren't asleep (insomnia).
Wake up. Think about the options:
super short, no more locks,
bobbed and dreaded,
leave it alone.
Stand

in front of the mirror with your scissors.
In front of the mirror, cut a few
dreadlocks, think: this is
it. Breathe. Chop
into the thick
of it.

______________

I went from a little over shoulder length to just above chin length last night. Those moments before cutting off any length of hair are a little frightening, but in an exhilarating way. It was just time, again. Over a year after the last time I cut them short and I was starting to fall back into that same old long-locks problem: always wearing them up, always in a bun or with a scarf/ headwrap. It isn't that I don't appreciate buns or headwraps, it's that that isn't why I wanted to lock my hair.

I wanted the freedom of letting them be.

I need to even out a few locks this morning (midnight haircutting = going for the whole picture, not the fine tuning). I may go a little shorter (nose length). I was hoping to get all the dyed-blonde parts out, but there's still an inch left. (And of course, now I am thinking about redying them again. Or adding some bright color.)

But all that to say: wake up to the life that is in front of you right now.