Kristi from the Bay Area came to us with a single word that carried much weight behind it.

נְבִיאָה
Prophetess

Two years earlier, she had heard a trauma researcher say that when survivors of sexual abuse heal, they become the prophets of our world. He wasn’t speaking in a distant, biblical sense. He meant that these are the people who have seen what others refuse to see, and who, if they find their voice, can begin to speak into the systems that allow that pain.

For Kristi, this idea became a direction. It carried her through recovery, through addiction, through finishing her degree, and into seminary. It wasn’t abstract. It was grounded, and it had momentum.

When we spoke about strength, she described something very precise. Not overcoming, but integration. A feeling that her heart, mind, and body were no longer fragmented, but whole. She imagined it as a triangle, a structure that holds itself together.

The word itself became clear early on. Just נְבִיאָה. A word with a long life in the language, and one she wanted to carry quietly, almost privately.

Gabriel stayed with her image of the triangle, but shifted its meaning. A closed form can hold strength, but it cannot receive or give. And the idea of a prophetess, especially in the way Kristi described it, is the opposite. It requires openness. Listening, and then passing something forward.

So the triangle remains, but it is no longer sealed. Two strokes break through its edges, extending beyond it. One reaching upward, one downward. The form becomes lighter, almost transparent, something that breathes.

For Kristi, the piece is not only about identity. It is about movement. About taking what was once held inside, and allowing it to pass through. A reminder that her voice was not only found, but meant to be used.