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The Bronze Goddess

The Bronze Goddess is beautiful, inspiring, magnificent. She embodies womanhood in her curvaceous, solid presence. She is the union of all our selves: our strengths; our powers; the insecurities that we beat back; our risks well-taken; our fake-it-till-we-make it; our shower singing and our strength-to-lift-cars-off-toddlers. She is the baker, the seamstress, the designer, the engineer, the lawyer, the doctor, the mother, the refugee, the immigrant, the dancer, the prostitute, the wife and the child. She wakes up each day and manages life—some days better than other days. She swims lakes of bandaged knees, swift rivers of “why nots,” brackish bays of reheated dinners and improvised remedies, new inventions, folders, order-to-chaos, twenty-six hour days, dust bunnies, sexy allure and the willingness to bail the bathroom. When her story is told then we can know it and see it. Her Mother, her husband, her children might never behold this grandeur; although it’s a sure thing they take glimpses of it once and awhile. How long does she build it? And the pieces never in the studio at the same time. She touches the most mundane and the most glorious. She lifts her lamp.