I am going through something, sharp
Like pulling myself through a broken window
Into a new madness I have not seen
With sacred, ritual prayers and hymns I sing
My own voice is foreign and far away.
I cry to an indifferent universe and receive
The saw of the shackle around my raw ankle,
The stifling heat, the smell of rot,
The inexorable darkness. The infection in my skin
I’m a shattered sliver of life;
Talking with the monsters of my childhood in my
They tell me I
will never be
I can almost hear the tears of my children.
I hold them in my dreams
And I whisper back to them:
“I am still here . . . Here . . . Here.”
is an artist and a writer.
Definitely an outlier, Sophia is a biracial British blonde, currently living in
the US. She is a widow, a mother of 4 adult children, a Paramedic, an EMS
instructor, an Anglican nun, and a Gemini. These facts and experiences have
given her a lot of inspiration for her work.
work is often inspired by her dreams
and nightmares. Sophia’s oil and acrylic paintings and her digital art may be
viewed on : https://www.artstation.com/sophiaw-r6
And on Pinterest: https://pin.it/Uvjl8vF