my queen, you are a masterpiece.
The worth of a woman cannot fit into the palms of a man's hands. It does not fit in his fingertips. He cannot grasp the vast nature of a woman's worth. He cannot grip it securely enough to have his way in shaping and molding her. He does not have the capacity to understand the depth and intricacies of a woman's worth. The strength it takes to safely hold her worth in his hands. He doesn't know. He has not been taught.
Let's teach the man that a woman's worth is more than the shape of her body, the lips on her face, and the sway in her walk. Let us teach him that a woman's worth is not found in photoshopped magazines, plastic surgery, or Keeping up with the Kardashian's. Let's school him on how a woman's worth should be respected and honored. That woman's worth is far beyond the opinion of a lonely man's late night thoughts. Her worth is not found on the tongues of her predators. It is not found in after thoughts, second place, or on top shelves to be forgotten.
You see woman, you have been lied to. You have been misled. You have been told that your life story is being written by a man who does not care to even know your name. You have been picked apart and drowned in the misogynistic opinions of a man-run world. You have been retouched, blurred, healed, stretched, and shrunk to fit a mold created by the lustful eyes of men. You have been told to break your bank and put your face on. As if the face you have been given is not a face at all, it's just an empty canvas that an artist forgot to paint. Forgot to create. Forgot. You've been told you are forgotten. That you are forgettable. As if the greatest artist to ever walk the Earth didn't already paint a masterpiece.
My queen, you are a masterpiece. You are layer upon layer of brushstrokes, colors, and moments of adoration. You are breath after breath from the lungs of a King. You are the living expression of a man who died for how worthy you are. You see, you worth does not sit in the palms of a man's hands but in the palms of a King who became a man to show you your worth. Your worth sits deeply in the cracks of the King's hands like clay sits deeply in the cracks of a potter's. A potter who sits down and spends hours creating one vase, making sure it's shaped exactly how he imagined. Woman, God took His time on you. He breathed inside you and created a piece of art like no other. And He took his last breath to solidify His work in you. He calls you beautiful, He calls you daughter, He calls you worthy, He calls you woman. You are woman. And you are worthy.