Apologies to My Hair: A Black Woman's Sonnet

So why'd I torture you for years, so long, inflicting chemicals on scalp and skin, pulling hunks of you through fiery combs so you'd lie straight and stiff? I only thinned your numbers out, made sure you couldn't grow strong by shocking you with lye, a dryer's din and heat to fry my follicles, then hair spray or foam— thick mousse to make my hair obey, make it akin to cotton candy. Now, I let you roam wherever you want. Couldn't leave you be before, but now I'm awed by all I find in you: a stray feather, leaf shed from a tree, a strand of my husband's hair, a texture we don't share. Somehow, we still end up entwined.