My Momma was art. My Momma was an art I never knew, but could always recognize. A living painting come to life. Her Black skin was smooth like the perfect brush stroke. She was divinely refined. Her voice gently poured from her lips. As if out of the mouth of nature. Her hair stood tall like sunflowers and her eyes were always bright with love like the sun. My Momma was an art I never knew, but could always recognize.