I told her about the rage.
How I don't know where it comes from
Yet it consumes me.
How I've tried passive, violent, silent,
And none of it makes a difference.
I would never hurt her,
But she deserved to know the truth -
That the illusion of a gentle trickle, a quiet stream
Hides an angry, deadly river within me.
I told her about the rage.
And she told me she loves me anyways.
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Vladimir Kush: burning in a candle flame (2000)
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There are no accidental meetings. when you know, you know
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I don't tend to use a lot of orange or yellow unless they're part of a colour wheel, but wanted something fire-inspired for this. It's another big one, about 43cm (17") across. Blackwork embroidery on 14-count Aida cloth.
Pattern here.
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My poor fading ember,
I ask the universe to look after you, for the Spring breeze to keep you burning until you are fed the nurturing you deserve and can burn bright once more.
You know that I would gently pick your coals from the ash, ignore the burning flesh of my palms as I raise them to my lips, and breathe my own life back into you. Down to my last, shallow breath if that is what it took.
What is love in darkness? What am I without you?
I would return you to the sun myself to refuel your essence, so long as you might become unwavering again.
Sincerely, desperately,
Your cold, shivering girl
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February Preorders are LIVE Now
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Fire Dancers by FuFu Frauenwahl
Latin palindrome- In girum imus nocte et consumimur igni “We enter the circle at night and are consumed by fire.” — Virgil
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Ana Mendieta: Untitled, Silueta Series (1978)
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