The Winged Witnesses

These figures are not saints, not angels, not revenants.

They are women who have carried more than they were ever meant to hold.

The wings are not symbols of escape —

they are weight, lineage, and memory made visible.

They sit on the tavern steps because this is the threshold —

not arrival, not departure — only the place where a person must pause

before deciding who they will become next.

The crow remains close, unafraid.

It understands what cannot be spoken aloud.

Nothing here asks to be resolved.

The work invites the viewer to sit beside them for a moment —

to witness what endures quietly, without spectacle,

and to recognize themselves in that stillness.