by Kerem Brulé

Dear Sisterhood
of the Half Shaved Head,
I want to apologize
if I seem overly enthusiastic,
like I already know you,
when we first meet.
For it is when
I’m among you
that a part of me
feels radiant,
and understood.
It’s hard not to smile
with a crackle of knowing
when our eyes mingle.

We are sisters
of a hair tribe
I never knew existed
in this Universe
until right now.
So I’m sorry
if my longer glances
make it weird for a minute.
It just seems like
we’ve met somewhere before
over these centuries.

Spontaneous poem inspired by my Friday night concert experience.

Journal, Volume 2 Issue 5