The First Sister — Keeper of Beginnings
She appeared in the hush between thoughts, wrapped in silence deeper than sleep for the stars above.
A baby cloaked in shadow with eyes reflecting starlight and a face soft with the knowing of things not yet spoken. She did not speak; she simply existed, cradled in black satin and adorned in celestial stars that dangled like little wind chimes.
The flowers in her grasp were moonflowers & were pulsing faintly with life, as if waiting for the moon's light to make them glow.
I bowed deeply in recognition to her despite being cloaked in shadows, and she giggled in delight. She is the breath before the wish; the dark before the bloom. She reminded me that even the unseen is sacred.
To the black women and girls who feel like they are still becoming, she "whispers," You already are. Your softness is your strength. Your dreaming is your doing.
The journey begins not with light, but with her, the hidden sister who blesses every seed with the power to rise.
The First Sister — Keeper of Beginnings
She appeared in the hush between thoughts, wrapped in silence deeper than sleep for the stars above.
A baby cloaked in shadow with eyes reflecting starlight and a face soft with the knowing of things not yet spoken. She did not speak; she simply existed, cradled in black satin and adorned in celestial stars that dangled like little wind chimes.
The flowers in her grasp were moonflowers & were pulsing faintly with life, as if waiting for the moon's light to make them glow.
I bowed deeply in recognition to her despite being cloaked in shadows, and she giggled in delight. She is the breath before the wish; the dark before the bloom. She reminded me that even the unseen is sacred.
To the black women and girls who feel like they are still becoming, she "whispers," You already are. Your softness is your strength. Your dreaming is your doing.
The journey begins not with light, but with her, the hidden sister who blesses every seed with the power to rise.
Mixed media on canvas
20x24
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