They creep, they hide,
Growing silently,
In both quantity and length,
Whispering secrets to the wind,
Revealing themselves when I run my fingers through my hair,
Or as I stand, brushing my teeth—
Still and quiet.

They carry the weight of aging,
Family burdens,
Societal pressures,
Emotional scars,
And hidden cracks called mental struggles.

Once, I tried to mask them—
Dyeing, highlighting,
Layer upon layer of disguise.
But it was only a veil,
A cover that could never change the truth:
That fact remains,
No matter how softened or adorned.

I am learning to face them.
To look at them,
Reckon with them,
Accept them,
Understand them,
Love them.

I am working on this, yet, I no longer need to dye them.
I am learning to run my hand over them, tenderly,
And let them be.

One day, they will fall.
I will tuck them away—
Memories stored in life’s weathered coffer.
And I will move forward,
With pride.

• Initial: January 4, 2025