Friday, June 16, 2017



The mother brushes her daughter’s hair,
 teases the tangles
knots turn to soft,  smooth locks, shining  golden.
Each single hair so fragile, could easily be pulled 
from its follicle,
effortlessly snapped.
Slowly, deliberately, she divides the whole in three 
equal parts
brush on autopilot with every stroke.
She takes the separate tresses 
 plaits them together
one over the other  - delicately - and
she remembers
she remembers the spray of the sea on her face, 
the yacht, the rope,
her father,
his strong hands - power of nature contained there-
sails swinging this way then that in the sway-
working together against the elements,
his patience unending - no let up till the thick rope is secured
 firmly to the quay.
He was her life pulse, threads to her hope - 
merciful, kind- her comfort, 
her link to the future which now has a sad space
 where he is no more.
She weaves the plait into a coil and when finished
lays her hands on her daughter’s 
and sighs . 

Image result for free picture of mother plaiting hair


  1. So beautiful, Maz .

  2. Ahhh, this was so lovely, and yet bittersweet. It's funny how sometimes the simplest of actions can take us back to memories stored safely away in our hearts, connecting us to those we love who have gone before us, and reminding us once again how very lost we feel without them at times. I thought your transition from the hair braid to the boat ropes was wonderful, very visual, one done on autopilot just as the other surely was. I don't think the missing our parents ever gets any easier as the years go by, we just learn to live with it because we have no other choice. <3

  3. What a bittersweet connection made between braiding hair and tying boat ropes. We never know what small gestures will remind us of loved ones no longer with us.

  4. I enjoyed reading this so much. Your story just seemed to flow with the motions of braiding the hair, lost in thought and memories. So beautifully written.


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