Tangled

I remember
the sound of the brush
de-tangling my hair,
the song you hummed,
and how you had to stop when you laughed
so hard
That time
was meaningless.

Your fingers ran across my curls,
helping them have the perfect shape,
or organizing them in a braid,
de-tangling every one of my thoughts.

Now,
I can’t stand the sound of the brush
against my messy hair,
I don’t sing any song,
I growl
I don’t laugh
I get angry
and it takes way
too
much
time.

so,
I simply don’t touch it much,
I don’t braid it,
my curls haven’t been shaped in years,
my thoughts are tangled,
and my hair,
my hair grew in knots.

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Sofía Hurtado Montes is a Colombian artist and writer with a BFA and an MFA from the Universidad de los Andes. Her work weaves together poetry and visual arts, and has been published in magazines in the UK, Canada, and the United States. Her artwork has been exhibited at the CICA Museum in South Korea, as well as in galleries in Colombia and Bulgaria. Her practice explores grief and the eternal present that accompanies it.

You can find her on social media: instagram.com/artecedario