The First Rebirth

my-birth-1932[1]
Frida Kahlo-My Birth 1932

A phrase, a phase
The first rebirth,
The final resurrection.

From the flames the screams
Of primal rage resound
As the phoenix emerges
Whole and resplendent,
Steady steady higher
Into the unbreathable
Aether circling round
And round the unmoving center
That steady still-point
In the whirling chaos
Of concentrated matter
I contain all this and more
Within the confines of my skull
I am immortal, God-size
The unbearable vastness
Of innumberable Aeons
Contracts in a single second
Revealing the designs
The presence of the absence
The dancing specks of light
That feed the inexorable
Hunger of the vainglorious
Deluded Demiurge unaware
Of the imprisonment
Within the constricting coils
Of the self-devouring
Eternally gyrating snake.

The final resurrection
The first rebirth
A phrase, a phase.

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38 thoughts on “The First Rebirth

    1. That can happen sometimes, a throw of the dice doesn’t abolish chance. This is mystic Cake, I conflate rebirth, resurrection and the Eternal Recurrence with the moment of negative revelation or something like that.

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  1. The painting surely grabs your attention! Birth and death, rebirth and re-death… infinitely small, infinitely expansive. Nicely done! Lofty ideas first thing in the morning. Semi- coincidentally, I wrote about going around in circles in my poem as well. Hmmm…

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    1. It is a stunning piece, I have long wanted to write about it, but after writing the poem I thought well there is a match. I was worried that you would think it too raw as I was kind of hesitant whether it was too rough.

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      1. Too rough: the painting or the poem? I have long been in awe of Goya’s Disasters of War. Too rough? When we bear witness to our times, an important part of our dialog with our time and place, we do not always meet with beauty. Each of us must handle the beauty or the horror in our own way. We must trust that our artistic honesty will be accepted as such by the viewer or reader. As viewers or readers, what do we judge? The act or the portrayal of the act? And which moves us most? And why? This, I believe, is at the heart of our role as artists. How we come to terms with it defines our honesty and our art.

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      2. I meant too raw, not polished as opposed too strong. I am not really a poet, I need to pay more attention to the techniques. As for subject matter, I think it chooses us not the other way round.

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      3. “These dreams that knock on the windows of our sleep and beg to be let in.” As for a poem being ‘raw’, in the unpolished sense of the word, I often post ‘early / raw’ versions of poems. I usually return to them later, unless their lack of polish adds to their strength. This, of course, leads directly to the ‘how much do we revise’ question.

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  2. I was going to say, but Meg did already, that this kind of goes with her circles poem today. That’s funny. Everything is a cycle. Why is the head covered on the mother in the painting? Also, I laughed when I saw the baby’s eyebrows. 😀 Awesome.

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    1. Well we worked on the same subject without knowing about the other. The idea of eternal recurrence is one of my certain ideas in my poetry for some reason. Maybe because I am lazy and it means I can loop everything.

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