A red head is full of passion
Gifted our own poetic fashion.

We trace our ancestry to the Keltoi of North Islands
Scotland and Ireland are where we find a linking strand

To the descent of one percent of the population,
Others dominate gene pools in future generations.

Though a dying race, we do have a spirit not easily broken
We are highly intelligent to articulate our diction.

We don’t lay in the sun; hoping to tan
Our skin is porcelain pale if we can

Find shade; avoiding the freckles, burn and peel
Suffering heat stroke, we know as very real.

We learn at a very young age to toughen our disposition
Defending ourselves from cruelty of others lamentations

Insults, degradation, sometimes violent abuse
Just for being born with red hair and then we refuse

To dummy-up in domicile, timid ways
Voicing opinions boisterously to portray

In laughter; an aggressive attitude.
Quick tempered with sharp tongues when in the mood.

Fearing nothing, even when it’s a false façade,
Finding our own temperament gives our secrets away.

Proud of archaic blood heritage and histories
Sensual, sensitive; open to life’s mysteries.

Curious of the unknown,
Honor is our heart and soul.

We are generous as long as you don’t cross us on our path.
We don’t take kindly to those with malice behind our backs.

Nurturing, protective of our family and home
Usually not a part of the crowd, we stand alone.

Loyalty in the absence; faithful for all to see
Until one brings harm, in vengeance with simplicity.

I have had the honor to grace this world with two such creatures of delight
As I am Keltoi, a natural redhead--mine own daughters are a gorgeous sight.

We are unique, an expiring breed; the last of our ancient bloodlines,
A part of Mother Earth as progeny in the mundane and the sublime

We bare the fire in our hair that dwells within our soul.
I’m the “crazy redhead lady” that some fear to know.

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