She stands alone with a great task in her hands, can you guess who she is?

 

The peak of her crown is etched into the luminous cerulean blue of the meandering skyline. The horizon teases the eyes of the spectator as the outer coating of her body stands a pale green from many decades. The spikes of her royal headdress are enveloped in black blocks that shroud the infinite hair trailing down her back, with the middle parting following into an arched, triangular framing of her face. The forehead. Sharp, protruding eyebrows line the shadows inside where lie the precious jewels: the stars. These celestial phenomena are her eyes, hidden deep below the translucent darkness of the shadow that the headdress casts on her face. The sun beams down and warms the rims of her essence; she stands there poised with her elegant arm raised sky-high. She is reaching to the peak of our world with the aim of illuminating the cosmos with her democratic message. She professes freedom. The epitome of traversing the world as one pleases; travelling and discovering places that liberate one’s soul; meeting people who take one’s breath away.

But none of this she will ever know. She embodies the message, yes. But no, she cannot live it. Trapped forever on a claustrophobic cluster of terrain below her feet, she cannot escape the body of water that has imprisoned her on this island. Even if she did live, she wouldn’t survive; being made of cast iron and stainless steel, covered in copper. Her mass alone would be too much. This dame of freedom would sink before she swims. She would be just that tall girl who held the magnitude of a free autonomous people who abandoned their shackles that once bound their hands and feet; she would be just another symbol of hope destroyed.

Her arched, elongated nose leads us down the pathway of her face towards the lips. She longs to move them into an elegant smile, burning with the desire to stretch her exhausted limbs and ignite into a lively living firework. To move, to be alive — that is what she desires. Instead her features are eternally frozen into a sombre expression. She stands alone, dressed in luxurious drapery, not covered by distracting ornaments that would twist her natural aesthetic splendour into something ugly and grotesque. She looks beautiful from afar. It is a tragedy, however, that lurks within.

In one hand a flame in the other a tablet inscribed with the law. She is grounded in the enlightened purity of the message of freedom her torch sends from the shores of the earth onwards. The inscription of laws prevents her flame from distorting the message of true freedom into utopic idealism. The laws must be observed by everyone, even her.

She is amidst the flowing waves of a raging sea that threatens to consume her along with her tiny island. However, she is an intrepid woman who can stand independently on her own two feet — she has, after all, been doing so since 1937. She is a beacon of hope. She is Lady Liberty.