Aiding the enemy they told the woman

Her eyes were looking at no one

Nor did she see the scissors approaching her head

 

Cold was the sound 

of the clacking steel

Then the dripping blood

warmed her scalp

 

They always get the women by their hair

where she is the most naked

Hair remembers the hands and faces that were once buried in them

Hair reminds now

all who has given up on it

 

Women resist their hair though

they won’t cut them, they brush them all the time

As a promise to life

Inside always that sound of steel

Clacking clacking

 

Only when the world is quiet during the nights

When the hour of remembrance is striking midnight

all those who reside in the hair

those hands and faces come back

The woman brushes her hair a hundred times

spilling all those from within her shiny strands

all those that have flaked off of her life

 

She never knew any other way anyway…

Carrying your hair a bit

it is, the so-called life