I returned from the palace of pain and sorrow
To gaze on the face of Frida
Whose memories of suffering and desire are mixed like oily shades of verdant green and ochre
on her palette
And who like Liu, loved without doubting -
Completely - even emptying herself entirely
Into the vessel of another,
Then overflowing it, beyond boundaries of reason, possession and betrayal
The third wife of Diego, -
The servant to an exiled king -
One who pledges all her life,
And whose body is a pungent forest crisscrossed with vines and branches -
In whose broad and fleshy leaves a monkey, parrots, and butterflies collect and linger,
Thorns encircling her pale flesh, piercing -
Blood trickles down as if she were
some waxen saint
A sword grasped at the crucial moment -

Liu and Frida bleed for men they love,
Freeing that spirit imprisoned in the palace
The palace of pain and sorrow
With what certainty, she throws back her head,
Her hair is black and tied and twisted,
Passion disciplined by suffering,
By the sheer illogic of accidents and injuries,
The numbing repetitions,
There is the simple ordered pattern of craft,
And then there is meaningless of pain.
The beauty of momentary youth,
The yearning of a bloodstained breast.
The darkness in her deep dark eyes.
Shiny stones, enveloped by the wings of the crow that dives after them
From the deep sky of a seamless brow
A spirit defiant
Wrapped in layers of folk dress
A crown of purple bouganvillea
Patterns, and the colors of hot flesh,
The rituals of the palace.
In, her expression, the blossom of spring,
A flower disintegrating petal by petal,
Fallen to the rain-soaked earth
Frida in the wing-swept gaze of your eyes
Life and death converge
The riddle answers itself.
Princess, transformed,
Angelic, earthly
Love, the messy business that consumes you
Flames again in the hot pink leaves that crown you
I gazed on your face and the moon grew in fullness
The night deepened,
Another day was born.
This is great info to know.
Posted by: Crystal | October 27, 2008 at 04:23 PM