A breath
Walked on a tightrope
Happiness
When would it fall?
I awoke
Tall
Strands of hair
Spread everywhere
Long
There was a time
The sun shone
Hair was held high
I breathed
But it wasn’t mine
So I walked on and on
Suddenly I fell
He painted my hair
Short
A breath cut free
Because I awoke
And beside me
The lights were out
A life
In a theatrical play
Walked on and on
The other way
With hair worn long
By Maria Grujicic
Copyright 2012
This is a poem that I wrote because of my hair, as strange as it may sound.
I’ve always wanted long hair and living in a tropical climate I couldn’t keep it. But living in Europe it saved me from the cold winter months, and I loved it. Now I’m back in my tropical home and I wonder about my hair, and mix my emotions with my dream, a distant dream to be in Europe once more and wear my hair long.
Writing is a struggle against silence. Carlos Fuentes
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“A breath
Walked on a tightrope…”
Lovely manifestation of thoughts. Truly enjoyed reading it.
Thanks for visiting! I read one of your poems too. I enjoy repetition- it’s soothing. Meditative.. To be honest, I am so tired with working so hard lately that I haven’t written in a while and I am too tired to enjoy anything… properly. In a few weeks I will have some holidays and hope to continue writing again. It’s hard to lose a passion… it’s like losing my sense of self.