I finally finished work at about 10pm after a long day of helping students find summer programs. One conversation in particular sunk a little deeper than usual. It all started with a book I gave the student, all about love by bell hooks. I simply asked how it's been going and the they began to illuminate how jarring and resonant it had been from the first flip of the page. Further they went on to quote the preface and in the reflection that followed, a door began to open. I listened and watched as they began to unearth years of buried emotion. Neglect, invisibility, and silence cries all crowded in the room. They had finally arrived. Confession is a destination all rage hopes to reach.
From the start of the call the student shared sketches of figures in different poses, some self-portraits, and other articulations of their imagination. In this exhibit I saw an artist who had conquered their world with a pen and paper, a warrior who fought not in wake of wounds but worship.
When I finally spoke in response, I let love lead me, knowing that I had nothing to offer but a mirror,
a frame for them to see themselves
as enough,
worthy,
loved,
a light that was sent to shine.
Art saves lives and today I see why
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