Frida…
Sometimes I feel you watching me —
from the smoke of your cigarette,
from the fire of your sun-colored crown.
You tell me:
“Don’t stop. Not now. Pain isn’t the end , it’s the paint.”
So I keep going.
My hands shake sometimes,
my body protests…
but my colors never surrender.
This swan carries me
when my wings are tired.
Its feathers become the softness I need to rest,
and the strength I need to rise again.
You laugh a little, I know ,
because you see me fighting, stubborn as you were,
with hope, with fear,
with every heartbeat turning into art.
I paint because I must.
I paint to stay alive in all the ways that matter.
And maybe…
just maybe…
you’re still whispering:
“Fly anyway.” 🎨🕊️
Medium: Digital Painting
