I bike down country roads where often my only company are butterflies. They bring an energy of lightness. I bring swiftness. I like to think we move each other. Over time their brief lives leave the road speckled with the stillness of yellow and gold. I collect the wings to remind myself how spirits are meant to play together, and hold each other up. How easily we seem to forget this. My work comes from the desire to remember.

 

I was raised to believe all people are created equal, and that as a society we are only as good as the way we treat our most vulnerable, fragile, light. Not only those that touch our lives but even more so - those that never will. All summer long I thought of separated, scared, and sad children. Over and over I felt the heartbreak that comes from knowing we are not doing well. Our caring for each other feels like a long distant memory.

What started as a small idea to honor what it means to care for unknown children - became an obsession to move my spirit toward theirs. Hour after hour, these small pieces were wishes. Night after night they became hope. And in the end a sincere prayer: wings for someone's child.