My First Portrait of Frida by Marissa Bojiuc

On a blessed endless path
she paints wildly.
Gracefully in human terms
her unibrow forms the soul of a billion Mexicans.
We stop to breathe.
She is already centuries ahead.

Vincente Fernández is born
and the story continues,
folkloric notes play romantically under his hat
for decades moved to the beat of their accent
that adorn in melodic echoed gemstones.

She is still ahead, smiling, 
his long black mustache
now matches her sharp brow.

 "I used to think I was
the strangest person in the world," 
says Frida.

In her diary, we arrive to understand
that decades before Vincente
as lead artist in a cast of tears
Frida wishes to never return.
Yet today, she still sketches
about the passion of humanity.

 A miracle of life
a Dulce Maria heart beats
"Viva Mexico" today she says,
and Frida is born again!
to adorn with a crown of flowers
another final sketch
her family, her legacy
Rebelde like the burning sun
that one day will ignite again 
our hair blonde. 

"Que te vaya bonito!" 
says Vincente.