White hair of Wisdom - Or Worry?

Some days earlier,

a strand of hair

peeked out.

Innocent, scared and doubtful.

Was it the light?

Or,

Was it really white?

Tilting my head back and forth

Closer to the mirror,

chin down and eyes up

tracing the little strand

As if it were a baby,

careful not to pluck it

because who doesn't know that

if one is plucked many follow

Tracing the little strand

Making sure it isn't the light

Tracing the little strand

against the black comb

making sure it is really white.

Amma! Is it really white?

If it is, then it is my first ever strand of white!

Amma! Is it really white?

If it is, then it shows everyone that I'm really wise!

The baby strand hides and sleeps on some days

fools me into thinking that it isn't really white

Other days, it is awake and alert

fools me into thinking that it might have a new brother or sister

this strand of white hair lives on

Slowly growing, and merging into the blackness

becoming longer, its identity hiding itself until it seems to disappear

Oh baby strand of hair,

Have you become wise?

Or worried?

-- S