The Widow meticulously dresses her grief in a cloak she makes by hand.

Mark by mark. Stitch by stitch.  Black on black. 

Wounded by loss more than once, the Widow goes further; she collects the tales

of trauma from the lives of her ancestors, attaching them to her own

long list of grievances.  Such are the receipts that adorn her own protective covering. 

 

The Widow proudly bears in perpetuity the weight of innumerable shameless

acts of violence perpetrated against the females of her lineage.Like a lady in waiting,

she spins her threads and carries this registry of interminable tears on her back.

​

Unbidden, she grieves on the behalf of the millions who attempt to guard

their pain secretly at subcutaneous depths. She flaunts her suffering and

is fueled by a hunger for vengeance that will never arrive. 

 

She will not forget, nor will she forgive.