Auxochrome — Chromophore

For January 13th for the One Year Writing Challenge, I used one letter from Frida to Diego that is one of, if not my favorite. It has nothing to do with their ongoing martial and emotional problems that they faced constantly in their relationship. One of the things that the world knows about their relationship is that it was quite negative at times, emotionally abusive and there was drinking involved that probably added to the issues they had but one thing many people over look is how much they actually acred for each other.

Diego said that the day Frida died was the worst days of his life for he never knew how much he truly loved her until he no longer could tell her. You can see clearly the love they had fro each other through their paintings, there are ton of paintings Frida had done that involved Diego or their relationship in some way (i.e. metaphors of Frida being the Earth and Diego living off of her resources, the may miscarriages Frida suffered).

I also choose this particular poem because it is how I feel about my partner now; there is no hatred I have towards him and he has no hatred towards me but what we do have is love and passion, the same kind of intense love Frida and Diego had. Minus the destruction.

It was the thirst of many years restrained in our body. Chained words which we could not say except on the lips of dreams. Everything was surrounded by the green miracle of the landscape of your body. Upon your form, the lashes of the flowers responded to my touch, the murmur of streams. There was all manner of fruits in the juice of your lips, the blood of the pomegranate, the horizon of the mammee and the purified pineapple. I pressed you against my breast and the prodigy of your form penetrated all my blood through the tips of my fingers. Smell of oak essence, memories of walnut, green breath of ash tree. Horizon and landscapes = I traced them with a kiss. Oblivion of words will form the exact language for understanding the glances of our closed eyes. = You are here, intangible and you are all the universe which I shape into the space of my room. Your absence springs trembling in the ticking of the clock, in the pulse of light; you breathe through the mirror. From you to my hands, I caress your entire body, and I am with you for a minute and I am with myself for a moment. And my blood is the miracle which runs in the vessels of the air from my heart to yours.

The green miracle of the landscape of my body becomes in your the whole of nature. I fly through it to caress the rounded hills with my fingertips, my hands sink into the shadowy valleys in an urge to possess and I’m enveloped in the embrace of gentle branches, green and cool. I penetrate the sex of the whole earth, her heat chars me and my entire body is rubbed by the freshness of the tender leaves. Their dew is the sweat of an ever-new lover.

It’s not love, or tenderness, or affection, it’s life itself, my life, that I found what I saw it in your hands, in your month and in your breasts. I have the taste of almonds from your lips in my mouth. Our worlds have never gone outside. Only one mountain can know the core of another mountain.

Your presence floats for a moment or two as if wrapping my whole being in an anxious wait for the morning. I notice that I’m with you. At that instant still full of sensations, my hands are sunk in oranges, and my body feels surrounded by your arms.

I think I am going to write down my version of this poem and mail it to my partner. I think he'll understand what I mean by it. You guys can ready it in my One Year Writing Challenge collection called January.
January 14th, 2017 at 11:40pm