This is dedicated to Frida Khalo and Women of the World as a discussion and narrative of liberated minds. I was fortunate to perform this as a spoken word piece at the F.R.I.D.A Female Revolution In Dance and Art http://www.cre8lifestylecentre.org.uk/on Please let me know your thoughts
Some may say.
Some may say her womb was weighed by the withered thoughts of the children she sought
Some would say her words were frayed by the battles battled from what bitterness brought
Her youth was confined to a distant past when an accident changed her path, some may say….
A woman lives the lives she lives as art as bare as she lives the lives of her soul
Some would say the injustice she suffered never let her be whole.
Some may say the pain will go away yet some would say this life is ne’er here to stay
Some would say that survival demanded her courage as her colours dribble their dew on canvas
Her dust lay gathered on glass panes as beauty disappears through mirrored pains
A being barren is only the specious speculation of a woman’s liberation, some would say….
Yet, you have to do whatever you can’t not do as a truthful call craves cradling
The denial of such a call is the abortion of the truth, till versions ultimately prove it true
Some may say all boundaries are conventions waiting to be transcended as restrictions dissolve, dissipate and deconstruct through resistance re-education and revolt
Some would say the density of our fantasies can never be weighted and conceived in reality
Yet everyday we pay for reticent redacted tales taxed into our everyday fact
The futures are deemed willful wanton and defunct and weariness is respite for a jaded chided collective
Some may say it is because of societies deities that the stimulus wanes in comparison to labour pains
yet this is rendered with rich tapestry and relevant histories on the surface of a creative’s narrative
Some would say art forms of the days have its roots in organic growth captured in today’s ever phasing generation
Yet the creative’s plight of the fertile mind is deemed barren and doomed to exist in the in-between and never fully seen
Some may say and some would say the telling of this soil only interrupts our divine moral coil
Yet we crave perfection, though through carving the imperfections are perfect in perfections in itself
Some would say its futile to try because to fail is to die
So to them we must say fuck it… its better to live trying than to die yearning
Some should say.
© Seyi Sage Awolesi 110020131755