I Remember, oil, 20 x 24 inches
Exhibiting: Nancy Rynes Studio
$2500 framed
 
A #Navajo ( #Dine ) woman contemplates the events of her life.
 
This piece was actually inspired by a poem (see below) that came to me out of the blue one morning. The poem was interesting and heartbreaking at the same time...I knew I needed to paint it.
 
I used gemstone-based paints in this one to give it a little extra punch of color (#turquoise, #rhodonite, and #tigerseye).
 
 
 
I Remember
I remember when the west winds blew unencumbered 
across the prairie teeming with buffalo.
 
...The winter fires burning in camps safely nestled in canyons, 
hidden from the cold north winds; 
The spirit-teachers, 
storytellers, 
keeping our children entertained and educated with the history of our people.
 
I remember when I was young, 
long before the sky was clouded with metal birds and city smoke, 
my feet running through the fields of corn and squash, 
my hands collecting pollen and blossoms; 
my mother smiling, shaking her head, 
and telling me the stories of how the corn came into being; 
and singing as we planted the fields, 
chanting our spiritual connection with Creator, our history, and our love for each other.
 
I remember a young man, 
his mother and mine agreeing on a match, 
a marriage, 
both of us in awe at the unfolding of our place in the next turn of life; 
then later, holding our firstborn as he lay in my arms, 
a young boy of five winters taking his last breath because of the sickness that came to us that winter. 
I wept, felt like my heart would never heal, 
my sorrow would never leave me.
 
I remember the birth of my next child, 
a daughter. 
Brave but sweet, she brought joy and love back into our hearts. 
And after her, two more sons who grew proud and strong. 
And in time, grandchildren, daughters who passed on our ways, 
sons who used our language to help rid the earth of a great darkness.
 
I remember sitting with my husband in front of a warm fire, 
recalling the days of our lives together, 
laid out in our minds as if they were yesterday. 
And holding his hand as he took his last breath of this life, 
while our children and grandchildren sang for him, 
for us, 
and for a life lived well.
 
I remember taking my first breath...or was it my last? 
My soul shaking itself out of the confines of an old, aching body, 
free to become the spirit of that young girl again, 
running through the corn...
 
...or perhaps flying away and returning to the stars.
 
 
A portion of the proceeds from the sale of this painting will benefit the Native American charities.