Dear curious stranger,

 

You wanted to know who I was, where I came from, and what my story is. 

 

My story is written in my hands,

Beautiful patterns of henna sprawled across a rough canvas,

Dark red swirls mesmerize my soul

Reaching out to help another

 

My story is written in my skin,

Tan and bronze, like my forefathers’,

Muted in revealing my character, yet

Standing for diverse voices yearning to be heard 

 

My story is written in my eyes

As dark and deep as the very earth

Brimming with tears of sheer joy

Looking up to clear skies ahead 

 

My story is written in my smile

Sparkling like champagne,

Fervent yet soothing

A beacon of hope for sunken hearts

 

My story is written in my hair

Cascading curls down my back

Smooth and glistening

Untangling the thorny problems of the world

 

My story is written in me

Engraved on my soul,

Mundane, yet aspiring

To shape the road ahead

My story is written in me

 

Yours truly,

 

 

Spoorthi Vittaladevuni