Poem by Tali Cohen Shabtai
Frida Kahlo and I *
The year 2001:
“Take this, see how similar you are” said Tirza Aman. She half-threw, half-
placed the book with the thin cover in the art therapy workshop in the Templer structure that contained
the crisis of Yona Wallach
in February 1965.
The year 2019:
have fit testosterone that thickens and strengthens the existing hair to the maximum DNA that the body allows our dense eyebrows to become.
We both have a lock of hair above the lip and limbs
that maneuver the body’s core
with great difficulty.
We both make use of pain through our art while
at the same time her painting served as a refuge
and for me, writing.
Yet, let’s not really labor to find another common denominator
it could be
that we both share a visual appearance
in the mouth, nose, eyebrow, two in number – connected.
And in the hair.
It is true that we brought a photographer who does not like us
smiling as my partner claimed.
We both have distinguishing marks that we preserve
Well, only she from the grave
and me from the land that was created in Genesis.
Until and as of now the gestures that
residents of Oslo provided me regarding the similarity between the two of us
are with me.
But, with this I conclude.
She is an icon, a museum, a role model
and I am anonymous
who lives in the attractive location of the Emek Refaim neighborhood – on the main road between Jerusalem and Bethlehem
in a two-room apartment
with the judgement an amulet of meat and blood that will become
a corpse, and with it my letters of discourse.
So leave me alone, Frida