The Fifth Sister — Mother of Light
She rose into view like a revelation: head thrown back, belly full, hands glowing with markings and bloom.
A grown, black woman draped in white satin, her hair a crown of clouds, and her eyes closed in deep arrival. There was nothing hidden here: she is the light, fertility, and renewal.
Blooming from her hand, moonflowers pulsed, curling gently around the swell of her womb, not just with child, but with moons yet to rise. I felt the pull of her gravity, and the warmth of her certainty. She had nothing to prove. Only to be. A sight to behold for three days.
To black women carrying generations inside them be it blood, dream, or legacy, she blesses, You are the revelation. You are the fullness. You are the answered prayer.
She is the voice at the crescendo, the face of every light that dared to shine. Under her gaze, everything becomes clear.
The Fifth Sister — Mother of Light
She rose into view like a revelation: head thrown back, belly full, hands glowing with markings and bloom.
A grown, black woman draped in white satin, her hair a crown of clouds, and her eyes closed in deep arrival. There was nothing hidden here: she is the light, fertility, and renewal.
Blooming from her hand, moonflowers pulsed, curling gently around the swell of her womb, not just with child, but with moons yet to rise. I felt the pull of her gravity, and the warmth of her certainty. She had nothing to prove. Only to be. A sight to behold for three days.
To black women carrying generations inside them be it blood, dream, or legacy, she blesses, You are the revelation. You are the fullness. You are the answered prayer.
She is the voice at the crescendo, the face of every light that dared to shine. Under her gaze, everything becomes clear.
Mixed media on canvas
20x24
Free shipping
