I Am Not a Painter


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Image of Fall 2020
Image of Poetry
I’ve heard Frida Kahlo paints flowers so
they will not die.
I am not a painter, but I wonder if
putting brush to canvas constitutes
a form of immortality, then.
I wonder if we are meant to know of it.
Preserving forever that which was made
to last a single season, does it count as
an act of war against God?
Can we truly comprehend that word?
Forever carries implications only seen
by the other side of the veil.
To try, still, to create temporal things
that belong beyond the temporal
with our imperfect knowledge of the notion
of forever,
is it not akin to hubris?
We are Creators, as far as we’ve been told.
Perhaps we should not have been told,
if all we’ve done with our presumed title
is attempt a retelling of reality through
postponing death. All because
we want so desperately to be like that
Great Maker so great He made makers.
I am not a painter, but I wonder.
6

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