painting: Roots of the Wound

Her body is a tree trunk, each strand of her hair holds the wind’s whisper within. And every crack in her skin tells the quiet tale of a war between pain and perseverance. She grew — not from rain-fed soil, but from tears that gave the earth its breath. She raised her head, not in pride, but to stay awake, to hear the song of a breeze only wounded trees understand. A tree without leaves, yet breathing the world through the emptiness in her chest… Original hand drawing with charcoal and pencil and brush and eraser…