For Frida Kahlo’s Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird
My Dear Frida,
Today I listened for the hummingbird
but in the planet of eternity—there was only grief
and the hummingbird did not come.
Usually I am accustomed to disappointment,
which like thorns—swathed around my throat,
but today I cannot bear it.
I am writing to you because your eyes are open
and to be alive is to be erect
and to be seen and to observe.
I also think this is what it means to be human.
what I have known all along
is that something was always almost happening,
to us to you
and to anyone else disappearing.
We are only women born in the land of bombs
exploding in all the ways that women explode
and this is nothing unique. I must tell you,
last night a black cat crossed my path
and this morning a monkey—the colour of tar
sang the prettiest song just where the ground began to split
I mourned for but a second,
because I am sure
this is just a sign, I know what it means to be human.
Kay Bell considers herself a bibliophile. She can be quoted: “If it makes me cry, sweat or bleed, then it is worth writing about”. Kay Bell has been published in the book Brown Molasses Sunday: An Anthology of Black Women Writers, Moko: Caribbean Arts and Letters, The Write Launch, as well as other venues. She is a MFA candidate at The City College of New York. More of her work can be viewed at: http://www.iamkaybell.com
The Ekphrastic Review
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