About the work
Color runs down every stem, bright against the dark. The orchids in Electric Weeping have found the light again and keep reaching toward it, while everything they carried to get here still moves quietly beneath the petals.
The poem
the colors ran like secrets do, down halls that couldn’t hold them. what bloomed was never still - it shook, it sang, it wept. and still, something tender opened. sorrow made it luminous, grief hummed beneath the petals. the light kept taking root, and filled the room like a quiet reckoning.
