Becoming beautiful

She combed
my hair before
she braided it,

half-sang
a song beneath
her breath,

a few words
audible within
hummed melody,

small birds
appearing briefly
in the rain.

Her voice found
and gently worked
each hidden knot,

snarls in me
loosened
and let go.

Laura M Kaminski
12 05 2014
In response to/inspired by Luisa A. Igloria’s “Not Less” and an entry from the Morning Porch.

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