Weapons of Hurt & Healing

 Hope is the thing with feathers... 


Heavenly hurt it gives us, we can find no scar...


Narcotics cannot still the tooth that nibbles at the soul...



She dealt her pretty words like blades...



My life had stood a loaded gun...

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Finally finished this series of prints. All the lines are from Emily Dickinson poems. I think the reason it took me so long to finish was I thought there should be more 'healing' images, but then I realised the feather was enough to heal all.

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