the whisper beyond sound, 2024, oil pastel, 12x17”
May the delirium subside— become distant and suspended.
May each moment be resurrected, reclaimed.
Birthed of the earth and spit out,
not out of disgust but of anguish.
A severed ear,
a portal inward.
A pain made real by the hush that followed—
thick, cumbersome, palpable.
Pastels smeared like half-remembered dreams,
like voices that never needed sound.
Because to feel the whisper, the soul’s quiet voice, is all that was ever asked of you in the first place.
the whisper beyond sound, 2024, oil pastel, 12x17”
May the delirium subside— become distant and suspended.
May each moment be resurrected, reclaimed.
Birthed of the earth and spit out,
not out of disgust but of anguish.
A severed ear,
a portal inward.
A pain made real by the hush that followed—
thick, cumbersome, palpable.
Pastels smeared like half-remembered dreams,
like voices that never needed sound.
Because to feel the whisper, the soul’s quiet voice, is all that was ever asked of you in the first place.
