Wide teeth comb hair

I use to hate the coils in my hair,
Until they granted me safety,
A comfort crowned on my head.
For a while I frivolously yanked at them,
Yelled at them,
Cursed them from my aunt’s yard,
To my father’s birth home and back.
Now I allow my fingers to embrace them,
Curling through the tips,
Thick with pride.

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