She

 A crowd was gathered, busy making idols of clay; 

She placed her luggage down there, looking for a place to stay.

"Excuse me, can you help me out?"

They scrutinised her in doubt. 

Hair unbound, curls falling back on her waist, 

"Tie it up, good girls don't let their hair loose." They said.

Her skin was dark; she didn't care. 

They told her, "Oh, true beauty is always fair!"

Her attire was short and sassy, 

"Clothes often make a girl easy."

Her opinions strong, her determination fiery, 

"Opinionated feminists are intimidating and scary."

She stood strong, ready to do a man's job. 

"You can't do what nature has decided as a man's work."

She smiled at them, ready to take their leave, 

"Oh, wait, where are you going, giving up so easily?"

She stared back at the idol, almost ready, 

"I will come back in a few days, 

Or when you are less heady anyway."

They frowned at her, got back to work, unaware, 

She was the One, whose idol they painted every year.

~ Suranya