Saturday, December 8, 2012


Frida Kahlo - The Dream (The Bed)

The contemplation that makes the mind go raging.
In the middle of innocent winter evening dream.
About life and death and something in between.

Throughout this life from the front row…
This twigs,
hiding the decades of pain and sorrow.
This twigs, this leaves,
covering from the grimreaper that sneaking through the window.
This twigs, this leaves, this roots,
giving hope for a prolonged life. Keeping faith in us to grow.

But look!
This life scares me.
This death is haunting me.
Scent of these flowers are tempting.
Sound of this ticking bombs are frightening.
I hardly can not sleep.
I barely can not breath.

Between life and death, is there nothing left for me to dream?
Between life and death, is there an interlude for me to scream?

Is it wrong if i paint of life with confusion,
with missions of unregression?
Can I accept these unstable feeling
as a whip that encourages again?

And death...
Is thinner than the air that we breathe.
Is thicker than the space between heaven and earth.

Is trying to find the loopholes to get out of  from our soul, suddenly.
Is waiting for a sudden opportunity to fondle from outside our body.

Thought too much. I’m afraid.
Dwelled too long. Painted in excess, the raid.

Should i paint of death with love
with visions of hope
and change this labyrinthine
as a dream that starts again?

Life, death, sleep, awake.
And the empty hours that need to brake.
Grimreaper’s having trance
Angel of mine starts to dance.

No! I am not scared to die.
And when it comes to life, I am not afraid to try.

I want to praise the life humbly, gently.
I want to challenge the death quietly, sweetly.

I want to take my time,
letting faith and hope and dream fly themselves in rhyme.
Among the dusky clouds that erupt along the distance,
Heaven and earth in between my existence.

(Bety, December 2012. Interpretation of
Frida Kahlo - The Dream (The Bed)

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