Diamond Divas

Wrapped in emerald, crowned in white bloom. She turns her face away because she already knows what you're going to say.

A thousand pearls on her head and not one of them out of place. Gold on her lashes, ice at her ear, patience in her eyes.

Flowers instead of a halo, laughing straight up at the light. Joy is her whole strategy and it works every time.

All crystal, no color. She stands in the doorway of the room and the chandelier follows her instead.

Pearl drops falling like rain from her shoulders. She was made for one entrance and she has never needed a second.

Iridescent, weightless, gone before the applause finishes. Her stones change color depending on where you stand.

Two silver wings of crystal and a curtain of pearls. She is not attending the ceremony — she is the ceremony.

Wide-brimmed, eyes closed, pearls to the collarbone. She has heard the compliment before and she is resting.

Gold hoops, soft light, one word set in stone. Some Divas need a story — she just needed the name.

Pearls blooming beside her like a bush that only flowers at night. She never turns to look at them.

Rose crystal from her hat to her heels, a butterfly waiting on her shoulder. Soft on the outside only.

Pearls stacked into a crown that keeps going down her shoulders. She looks past you on purpose.

Silver on silver, framed in black. She stepped out of a ballroom and let the door close behind her.

Blue stones at her ear, gold on her lids, a wrap of pearls above it all. Quiet, and completely in charge.

Every flower she owns is in her hair at once. The butterflies followed her here and they're staying.

Jeweled hood, finger to her lips, a ring the size of a promise. She knows and she isn't telling.

Every color she's ever loved, wrapped and stacked and worn at the same time. No apology anywhere on her.

Crystal falling over her face like rain off a roof. Deep skin, silver light, eyes closed in peace.

Green brim tilted just so, blooms on the side, black lace everywhere else. She always sits in the front row.

Silver headwrap stacked to the sky, one hand resting at her cheek, a blue stone burning at her throat. She lets you look.

Two figures, one pearl hat, a green heel between them. She never goes anywhere without her own reflection.

Black and crystal against warm peach, one small daisy where nobody expects it. Her whole story is that flower.

Pink pearls, a hat like a parasol and three pairs of shoes she has not chosen between. She is still deciding.

Sapphire drops falling from her sleeves, a fan of pearls behind her, a train that keeps going. The last woman to arrive.

Pearl lace above, gold below, boots set with light. She dressed for herself and everybody else adjusted.

Blush pearls around the brim, lashes down, nails long enough to make a point. She is not asleep — she is deciding.

Pearls from the hat to the heels and a black background that knows better than to compete. She lies down and the room still stands.

Roses, gold, glasses and hands folded. One word spelled out at her feet and she means every letter of it.

Silver headwrap, pearls to the wrist, one hand raised like she is about to say something worth waiting for. The last Diva, and she knew it all along.

Gold lettering wrapped around a leopard-print headwrap Diva: even in the midst of my storm, I see God working it out for me.

Arms lifted in a pale blue gown, locs down her back. She overcame everything that was meant to destroy her.

A Diva kneeling in prayer against turquoise and gold. The quiet one — and the strongest of the line.

Curls up, leopard bow tied, gold hoops and pink-tinted glasses. Full glam before the first sip.

A stemless glass carrying one word three times over — Pray, Pray, Pray. Grace, on the rocks.

A long-stemmed wine glass with a navy-gowned Diva and a gold script signature. Poured for the loud nights.