Wig (less)

(for Precious Gumede)

by Abu Bakr Solomons

I looked at your profile pic
and saw that you were not
donning a wig anymore

It felt, after so many
years, that I finally saw
you, real, bold and true

Your beautiful dark eyes
contoured eyebrows
and generous lips

all seemed so distinct
defined, unspoiled by
a shadow of fibred crown

Then you confirmed
how relieved you felt after
wearing it for sixteen years

how long you struggled with
make believe (oh what we
do to ourselves to be loved)

you exclaimed how elevating
it is to feel rain pattering on your
head, no pulling and flattening

and the dreadful itch is gone
vanquished like a persistent
curse, punishment, exorcised

Finally you are free to declare:
I am here – no longer fraught
with the moil of shame

re-entering my world with
my soft, shiny, ebony crop
laid bare, so triumphantly

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Posted in Poetry

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