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.
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