Take Me With You

Self-portrait and poem titled: Take Me With You A hundred wings cut through the sky scattered like ink in water folding, flowing, shifting in the wind’s quiet hands. I watch with heart full of desire But my legs fall limp, spine bent toward the horizon lungs filling with something too light to name. They do not hesitate no questions, no second guesses just the knowing—where to go, when to turn who to follow, who to lead. I want to call out tell them there is room for me, too, that I could learn the sky, feel the shape of the wind under my ribs But my voice is only breath, swallowed before it reaches them. They vanish beyond the edge of the sun, leaving only the hush of air in their place— and the ache of stillness in my bones.

• Fujicolor Crystal Archive Professional Lustre Paper
• 210gsm
• Vibrant, fine-grain pebble texture
• Archival: 100+ years on display, 200+ years in storage
• Silver halide, RA-4 wet printing process
• Sizing: White borders do not change size of the print