Short
written by: Dhanvi Bhand
My grandmother oils her hair
and braids it into
a thick rope
a simple action
her daily routine
a simple action that may go back generations
stops at mine
I’m afraid I like mine short
I remember her sitting on the verandah
sun shining on her face
and the rays dancing
across the waves of her open hair
the salt and pepper plaits
that were forever etched into my memory
along with the smell of almond oil
a part of her
almost her identity
until that one day
she took a leap of faith
in a dimly lit barber’s shop
the rope was chopped
and the waves stopped flowing
and as I stared open-mouthed
at my grandmother
who seemed to have committed
the most rebellious act ever
simply smiled and said
“we’re matching.”
Hello! I'm Dhanvi, a young teen aspiring to be a poet! Please support my work if you like it! <3
