Frida Kahlo

Paint filtered through your pain and came out as art. Your broken body bent under the weight of a brush but did not succumb, instead infused the canvas with fiery colours mixed in the crucible of your heart. Who knows why Art sometimes asks for so much, wrings blood from bone to write its name across a life. The why we may never know much less understand, we can only give thanks that such exquisite beauty has bled from a human hand.