Black Girl Masterpiece

I changed my hair again.
My curls have been weaved into braids.
I resemble an Egyptian queen.
My reflection is strength, beauty, and unapologetically unafraid.
 
The transition continues.
This time I have to let it breathe,
I pray someone mistakes me for Angela Davis.
You couldn’t bound me even through captivity.
 
My tracks have been set in place.
I paid for inches that could touch the floor.
Just like my twin, Beyoncée, I will uplift women.
My locs will be your ladder to reach a higher place to soar.
 
I find myself back at God’s first choice.
My hair is fertilized, growing, and blossoming in kinks.
This particular look has my reflection clapping back.
Some would call me black girl magic which is just another term for masterpiece.​