It troubles me to see you down.
To see your head hang low.
Do you not see the sparkle in your eyes?
The music in your steps,
The waves in your hair,
The aroma of your presence,
The glow on your face,
The life within,
The wrinkle when you smile,
The curl of young lashes,
The sound of your voice,
The warmth of your laugh,
The touch of your hands,
The complexion of your skin,
And do you not see the beauty mark, freckles, or birthmark as His masterpiece?
Women! You are works of art.
For art does not hang low,
Nor are they hidden but presented.
For if we do not shine brighter than the sun,
Smile wider than the sea,
Sing louder than earthquakes,
Then how will they know a woman's worth?
How will the world know the God who planted us, formed us, and made us in His Image?
Through the women!
--Mona Abbi
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