Forest of Beginnings

A poem as response to two photographs by Pao Houa Her: on "the earth voicing / each twig and leaf"

Black and white photo of tall, sparse tree growing at a 45-degree diagonal, surrounded by smaller trees.
1Pao Houa Her, untitled, Mt. Shasta series, 2021-2022. Courtesy the artist and Bockley Gallery, Minneapolis; produced with support from the Walker Art Center.
Even the sky knows not
to make promises of water,
 
and the air knows not to dream
the onset of rain.
 
Even the animal
who forgets the touch
 
of a distant liquid cold
waits without knowing.
 
Earth is picking up her bones.
 
Earth is tucking in her babies.
 
          Sleep well, little loves,
                 sleep as you’ve never slept
 
       so you may wake
                    as you’ve never woke.
 
This is the earth that chants.
 
This is the earth that grows
teeth in the storm.
 
               This is the earth voicing
  each twig and leaf,
 
every stem
and stone.
 
This is the earth that opens like a room.
 
The ground sleeps through another
season of drought.
 
The land burrows further into exile,
sinking upward,
                        heaven to the ground,
 
where bodies of hemlock and pine,
cedar and fir,
 
no longer cast old roots but
tiptoe their arms
 
around shrubs and metal stakes.
 
Still, the land gives, the field grows,
and the harvest enters
          when it is called.
 
Flora of these hills and meadows
 
are all but springing their desires
under the rising moon.
 
               Leaves tended
by hands that tended leaves
from another mountain
 
on another shore
                        in another war.
 
War made by hands of another
for ownership of
 
                     the mountain before
leaving to new shores.
 
I did not know when I birthed you
that flight had been etched
on our tongues.
 
I did not know the jungle would
take us
far from our home,
 
                           bring us to California with
visions of new dirt and
 
the brightest green in our blood.

Black and white photo of landscape with brush, single conifer tree rising above other vegetation, and snowcapped mountain in background.
Pao Houa Her, untitled, Mt. Shasta series, 2021-2022. Courtesy the artist and Bockley Gallery, Minneapolis; produced with support from the Walker Art Center.

Pao Houa Her’s exhibition Paj qaum ntuj / Flowers of the Sky is on view at the Walker Art Center July 28, 2022–January 22, 2023. >> more information

Large gallery with dark gray walls, black and white photos in light boxes on either side, green light box on far wall, and viewers on benches.
Pao Houa Her: Paj qaum ntuj / Flowers of the Sky, July 28, 2022 – January 22, 2023, Gallery C / Burnet. Photo by Eric Mueller, courtesy Walker Art Center, Minneapolis.
Author
Mai Der Vang

Mai Der Vang is the author of Yellow Rain (Graywolf Press, 2021), winner of the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize from the Academy of American Poets, an American Book Award, and a finalist for the 2022 Pulitzer Prize in Poetry, along with Afterland (Graywolf Press, 2017), winner of the First Book Award from the Academy of American Poets. The recipient of a Lannan Literary Fellowship, her poetry has appeared in Tin House, the American Poetry Review, and Poetry, among other journals and …   read more