She Is Written in Every Word

Behind her, the words flow like rivers –
letters, ancient and alive,
as if the universe itself
wrote her into existence.
A bindi rests upon her brow
like a full stop at the end of a perfect sentence.
Her long braid falls like a story
that has no end.
Draped in the simplicity of white and brown,
she needs no gold, no colour –
for she is the poem
that every word was trying to say.
Eyes half-closed, lips softly resting,
she smiles the smile of a woman
who knows her own worth.
She is not in front of the words –
she is the reason they were written.

Object number

017.0996