Your smears and sketches

I didn’t know that I could see in

Your sketches: torrential rain and fusion upbringing

Through paint strokes and finger-smudged corners

The clarity from adoption

Puckered through the wholeness of a mural.

It was new to me that I could sense

The rage and indulgence from your

Sobering peek at motherhood.

And here is your art.

Amongst pencils, canvases, spray cans and a foolish yet purposeful

Douse of glitter.

I am so proud of you, Sister.

This beautiful piece you have drawn.

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