Bee Sting

Showing up in my art room recently, a wave of painful emotion presented itself. Perfect timing for a painting. Time to let it rise, let it out of my body, and process the pain. Honoring this process, there appeared a bee and a child.

The bee lay dead, the child lay wounded, surrounded by chaos and consumed by pain.


‘sticks & stones may break my bones but names may surely kill me’

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