Image: Edward Steichen’s Nocturne painting, c. 1904. (Courtesy of Raclin Murphy Museum of Art at the University of Notre Dame)
It was mid-winter 2011 when I first I walked through the front doors of the Georgie O’Keeffe Museum in Sante Fe, New Mexico. I was on break from a wonderful workshop with my beloved teacher Jose Stevens at The Power Path school of shamanism.
I stepped into the first gallery and my eyes locked onto Edward Steichen’s Nocturne painting inside a gilded frame. I found a chair nearby. I couldn’t move. The painting began speaking to me and words came faster than I could write them down. I grabbed my journal, wrote furiously, and voilá, this poem was born.
When I returned home to Oakland, California, I called the O’Keefe Museum to see if I could get a print. I needed that painting at home. They informed me it had returned to the Raclin Murphy Museum of Art at the University of Notre Dame. The staff at the Raclin were so kind and arranged to sell me a print, made special upon request. Now this print and its sister poem bless my dining room in Omaha, Nebraksa.
The Forest is Lit From Within
by Astara
The turquoise of dusk infuses the canvas.
The waning sun paints mystery
as gold onto the trees.
Somewhere in the distance
stars begin to dust everything.
Perhaps some trees will fly.
Violet washes the forest floor
and for a moment the poles reverse,
divinity is at the roots
and lust sways in the sky.
Eternity whispers in the breeze
as trees listen between branches.
They answer with their own language,
laying violet leaves at your feet.
One foot and then another
as the earth meets you:
bark, twig, moss, stone.
Each step releasing
a new color,
releasing the scent of the unknown,
stirring the musky opening of life.
