#shortpiece

I like how, ever since I left home and even now that I'm back, mournful love songs at night woo the stories out of me. It's like they're finally comfortable to speak when everything falls silent and asleep. My heart resonates so deeply with the peaceful space between a spent day and an unlived one. There are no expectations here. Some reflections, aspirations, and the calm of having to neither solidify nor fulfill these. Just me and my eclectic playlist dancing with my drafts.

Esther. I read the stories about the brave young Queen who defied a custom she had married into for a people she had married out of. I could almost smell the oils and perfumes they clothed her with. Her jewels sparkled around her head. Her mane sometimes pinned up; sometimes let down or in braids. She was fiery. Sure. Brave. I met a young girl with eyes whose spark and curiosity matched mine. Even when she was not around I could almost smell the grace and favor He clothes her with. Her creativity adorns her head. Her mane, sometimes pinned up, other times down in volumous strands or in braids. She is fiery. Sure. Brave. Her queendom is built on music and candor. Her laughter is heart-warming and spirit-lifting. She thrives in foreign customs; she never forgets her people's songs. Ever growing for such times as these: gracefully defiant, faithfully blooming. Esther.