ode to sampson (your hair was long when we first met)

in my 9 yr old defiance, i fled from the comb,
swore off its biting babylonian teeth for good.

in my 19 yr old defiance, i ran right back to it
sampson's oath forgotten, i cut off my crown of strength

allowed myself for the first time in 10 yrs to be vulnerable.

when the first dread dropped, there was silence.
my heart did not stop, i did not fall to the ground in tears.
as far as i knew, everyone was still living, still breathing.
my fingers twirled and pulled at the new growth
amazed at the simplicity of it all.

when they cut the rest, regina crooned in the background
like a biblical temptress
and i sat in my chair, calm yet afraid.

i always thought id cut my hair while in mourning,
tear them out and offer them to the sky,
but instead i was still

and i cant help but wonder who i have just let go

what part of me did i decide to let die and bury
and when should i stop grieving?