Soft Bodied Garden Children, 2023

Oil on Canvas

48”x48”

Part of a diptych that is a work in progress. This painting serves as an imagery for a poem I wrote to process my grief.

~~~~~~~

The first time I met you, your eyes danced with enough light that I think you made the sun jealous. We grew up as garden children, soft soil bodies that only wanted to erupt with flowers instead of bruises. You were the only person who read my poetry without laughing or saying it was too dark to be good. You were the only one who told me I should keep writing.

The last time I saw you, there was a smile on your face and your eyes were the northern lights. You and I held hands and ran through the rain and shook our fists at the sky and curled under blankets and told each other secrets. I was almost asleep in your arms when you said your last goodbye.