My Crown, My Heritage, My Choice

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A sacred thread connects my roots to me,

To every silver strand that time bestows;

My hair holds stories of my ancestry,

A strength that deep within my being grows.


My hair is my minds power, bold and free,

A crown of culture, care, and survival;

It carries all my ancestors gave to me,

Their strength and grace, their stories of revival.


My kinky crown refuses to conform,

It stands apart, embracing who I am;

Through changing times, through calm and every storm,

I wear my heritage with pride, without a sham.


Even lying gently in the grass,

My crown rests proudly, never losing power;

For beauty is not something meant to pass,

But strength that blooms within me every hour.


And now, grey whispers mingle with the dark,

Each silver strand reflects the years I've known;

The folds upon my skin leave their own mark,

A map of joys and tears that I have grown.


Yet when I stand before the looking glass,

I sometimes wish to colour silver hair,

To brighten up my face as moments pass,

To soften ageing skin with tender care.


I wonder, is this wishing time away,

Or simply choosing how I wish to shine?

Can I embrace my age and still display

A renewed reflection that feels truly mine?


I may let silver glisten in the light,

Or colour my hair with shades that bring me cheer;

I may accept each wrinkle as my right,

Or seek beauty treatments as the years appear.


For choosing change does not erase my past,

Nor does my wish for youth diminish me;

My roots run deep, my heritage will last,

Whatever shade or texture others see.


I honour every strand that time has spun,

Each line that tells the story of my days;

I cherish who I've been, who I've become,

And choose my own reflection in my ways.


From dark, proud roots to silver skies above,

I carry my ancestors in my stride;

My crown is woven with their strength and love,

A timeless beauty living deep inside.


I am my history, my choice, my grace;

I welcome time, yet seek renewal too.

No age, no strand, no line upon my face

Can dim the beauty of my being true.


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