Eye witness report
With every hair on my head
From the perspective of a single hair on my head:

I and all the others, literally all the others, not a single one included, had thought we would ever find common ground. But here we are discussing books I thought I would burn. And I share this thought with literally everyone else I share this head with. Here we are agreeing on the value this self-help book might have for others, and here I find myself agreeing that perhaps this book may empower those who feel like they cannot be themselves in the current state of the world. Most of the others are still of the opinion this author is a misogynist pseudoscientist whose ego has inflated beyond that of the observable universe, but I have seen the other side of things. A small bunch became radical and bend the other way, worshipping each word the man ever uttered. I cannot help but wonder whether these were the thin blonde baby hairs in the sheltered nape of the neck. Some coarse critical ones too have gained a voice and vouched to decipher the underlying power structures this man is upholding. I myself have made peace with a somewhat relativist point of view to remain open for other views.
In short, a few of us stood up and dared to listen. I wondered as the conversations went on, how many of us we were losing in the process. But all in all, the conversations went smoothly and comfortably. I found within myself that finding common ground was necessitated to listen to concrete plans for action. I took pride in the few of us who had stayed put and rustled only softly when confronted with opposing views. Before I was scared, we would be split at our ends and be torn apart, leaving us all too thin to hold on at our roots. But it became evident that also on that other heads, and I firmly believe, and with me all the others as well, that we all long to be heard, at least, and for others to be open to understand our point of view. How we will do this some of us claim know, others will not tell, I personally can only imagine, others say it is impossible. Listening, listening, listening to all of us on this head and all the other hairs on all the other heads. Let’s all interweave and form a braid

a rope

a knot

of all these separate hairs and slide and glide and intertwine

until we all let go of our heads,

and find that we are better of without a shouting

pondering head

thinking

Let us take off

be carried off

by breaths and puffs of airconditioned air

I'll wrap around a pigeon's leg

and watch the heads from up above

and when the leg dies off and falls
lands on a membrane roof; a factory or shopping mall

I think back to my head bound days

I am hair and I am a part of hair,
I was a part of her

Once I was a bunch of hair, a hairdo if you will

Now I am a single hair, although I always was