Clean Shave
(to tai-yo, dennis kim, bao phi, johneric concordia, golda sargento, tim arevalo, marlon esguerra, alvin lu & all the folks that taught me that ceremony can be found anywhere)

he
shaves away my strength
        my hair that hides
        the inconsistency of my scalp:
my mysterious hairline — lifeline of my brain
             exposed.
        it's direction as rocky as my bumpy head.

he.
shares stories,
whispers close to the ear.
sometimes he is a she
singing lullabies to soothe
my head that readily accepts my fate — the blade.

i silently
listen.
(i can't go anywhere;
i am at the blade's mercy)

i must sit immovable
listening.

while the voice that comes from the hand
tells me stories of previous customers:
those who've died
those who he (she) birthed into the world with her (his) blade
those who birthed him (her)
by showing her (him) how and when to use it.
those who helped the voice¹s heart grow from a cold seed to a strong oak tree.

i sit immovable.
        listening.

while the shaving cream becomes invisible,
i am no longer the same person.
i see all my curls in the sink
and on the floor.

yet i am heavier than before.

i am heavy
with branches
and leaves.
no longer just a seed.
my soul has taken root
as my naked head glimmers
in the man-made light
exposed to the elements.

nowhere to hide.

i am ready world
take me now.

i want to feel, hear, smell, taste, see all of you.

embrace Thou.

i have learned my lesson:
i always use my tongue
before my other senses.

this shave
has taught me,
that silence
can be
     as strong
            as a blade.

2/1/02; 5/02/02
©Robert Karimi

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