white lightning

Silver streaks or should I say White lightning. 

Doesn’t cause me to run. 

It makes me smile 

When I look in the mirror.

Reminded of Grandpa sitting in his chair with his crown of silver.

Misbehaving strands swept off to the side.

Slowly curling up from the tops of his ears. 

I feel connected, almost “embraced” by his memory. 

Unbothered by the shift in patterns resembling waves frozen mid air. 

No longer like the frizzy, brassy curls, she once was known for.

Reminded of the red tones connecting her to the earth and surprised how it also represents all of her life's work.

Sunk into the ideal space is filled with energy.  

The sight of it might frighten you. 

And some can’t see it as I do. 

That’s ok and it makes sense, because it's not Your hair.

Written April 2024