From these strange ashes
This morning, I awoke to find out that the horrific missile strike that Russia inflicted on Kyiv was aimed at cultural sites across the Capitol. Schools, shopping centers, homes, the Kyiv Mala Opera House, the National Art Museum (NAMU), and the Chernobyl National Museum were bombarded and mostly decimated. As many of you who have followed my art, Poetry Art, for years may remember, I have/had a painting called, “Uprooted” that was part of the permanent collection of the Chernobyl National Museum for over 25 years. The museum was dedicated to remembering what happened on April 26, 1986 when a reactor at this Nuclear Power Plant exploded causes irreparable harm to the Ukrainian people. During my very first trip to this nation in 1997, I was so devastated by what I learned that I created this painting and it was dedicated at the museum in 1999.
There is a tremendous amount of symbolism that I painted into that very large painting. In the center is a grandmother in her traditional babushka covered in the domes of churches, angels
and people dressed in Ukrainian costumes. Down her lapel are black and white photos, that were displayed in the museum of children whose lives were affected by the nuclear accident and were ultimately lost. She is holding a child who is gnawing on the Holy Scriptures with a Orthodox cross on the cover. In the blue air behind is the radiation that permeated the surrounding cities, villages and countryside. There is a tree without leaves that has been uprooted and the base is in flames, within a cradle which is also being consumed by the conflagration. This represents the generations that have been extinguished from being able to live a long and productive life here on earth. Hanging from the empty branches are family photos and a traditional weaving that has symbols of love, death, poison and Communism, woven into its fabric. The old lady represents the widows and the child is an orphan. These vulnerable ones are always the victims of the atrocities of others. I think this image and the poem to follow is contemporary to what the Ukrainian people have suffered these last four years, as well as the many things that have transpired to still their unique identity, memory and voice over the past millennia.
Uprooted
©Launa Stan
If a man’s thoughts dye his soul
What kind of stain do his deeds leave?
A hazardous spill on himself and the laps of others
Who share the same air
Breathing in and out, in and out
Now there’s bitterness that abounds
In the bread basked of the north
Uprooted family trees with forgotten people
In yellowed photos dangling down
Wooden cradles set ablaze in the forest
Where blue light sprang from place to place
Luminescent-Deadly beautiful
Reminiscent of sparklers
Crackling at a May Day parade
The rain has become hot tears pouring down
Falling down, dropping to the earth
The fragmented rivulets on a musical score
Splash on these paper lives, fragile and all too brief
The muffled sobbing is a melody
But only to the ears of Him unseen
It’s an aria of the heart that sings a Capella
The high pitched notes of pain
Yet, he who suffers much speaks a wordless language
That can be understood, although the tongue is mute
It transcends dialects, country lines
And political ideologies...Uprooted, but not alone
I have seen lives irrevocably changed
In one moment in time
From one thoughtless choice, a careless decision
Leaving ancient villages empty
Doors left swinging on squeaky hinges
For all eternity plus seven years more
And the plastic dolls of stolen youth
Sit on dust covered window panes
Vacantly staring at the loss...Uprooted but not alone
Heartbreak and tragedy
Are no respecters of persons, tradition, religion or plans
It is blinded by skin color
And the coins in ones purse
I have been told that fear is like rust
That eats away hope, little by little
Corroding all confidence
This invisible acid obliterates desire
Until we are mere shells with nothing left inside...
Uprooted but not alone
But now I believe that love is a salve
To be spread over the wound to heal and soothe
Able to mend the innermost places
That are hidden from man
Faith causes that page to turn
Just because today’s sunshine is blocked by the clouds
Doesn’t mean the sun is gone
If God seems silent
It doesn’t mean He has left us
Or doesn’t hear our cries
Perhaps, we are the ones who are not listening
To the voice that is gentle and low
Tender and always near
We must be quiet and still
He is here, and anxious to woo us to Him
Like a lover
He will be revealed once more...Uprooted but not alone
There is a day that dawns on all of our broken lives
That we are able to see clearly
If we look with unjaded eyes
We can see that we are all people with ruined dreams
With unrealized plans
Yet, somehow they can fit perfectly
Into His bigger picture
And be breathtakingly beautiful-in time
We can be uprooted but not alone
From these strange ashes-HOPE will arise!
What Putin and his evil horde are trying to do in this messed up war, is more than simply death and destruction in order to gain land for Russia. As this latest bombing proves, it is to remove Ukraine’s heritage, hope and faith, by going after all of these cultural sites. This enemy will not be victorious in erasing these beautiful people’s spirit, stamina or National pride. Holodomor, the genocide and man made famine of 1932-33 and the nuclear fallout of 1986 hasn’t stopped the Ukrainian spirit and neither will this attempted invasion...no matter how many bombs and missiles drop or drones fly in!
What about my original painting in the rubble of the Chernobyl Museum? As of this morning, I don’t have an answer. The Interior Ministry is saying that although rescuers have saved many items, 40% of the art and historic pieces have been, “irrevocably lost.” So at this writing, my painting could have been consumed by the flames that were caused by the missiles. It also may still be left to be dug out, it is uncertain. Am I sad? Yes? But not for a mere object. I am brokenhearted over the two lives that were lost and the 100 that were injured, not to mention the homes that were obliterated.
When my children were young and they broke some precious object in our home, I always told them, “Things are not important, people are.” Everything that doesn’t have a soul on this planet is only temporary. Someday, our property, cars, clothing and jewelry will belong to someone else or be garbage in a trash dump. I am not devastated if a piece of art that I spent hours creating is destroyed. As much as I have loved doing Poetry Art for over three decades, it is not my purpose for living or my legacy. It has been a vehicle or platform for what is the two most important things-loving God and loving people. This is my calling and my joy and privilege. Ironically, my husband Marty and I were hoping to go to the Chernobyl Museum, in a few weeks, when we will be in Ukraine to do camp for teens living through this war. I have not seen the museum or painting, myself, since 1999 when it was installed. Over the decades, I have received emails from folks from many nations who had seen it there and were moved by the imagery and poetry. When we dedicated the painting, Uprooted, our dear friend, Irena translated the poetry from English to Ukrainian. (She passed away a few years ago and we miss her tremendously, but was a highly intelligent, sensitive and gifted lady.) At the ceremony, a Ukrainian poet approached me and through tears asked how, “an American Artist and Poet could understand the heart of the Ukrainian soul so well?” His words remain the greatest compliment that I have ever received for my work.
So what is that unbreakable Ukrainian spirit that he spoke about? I think the last line of the poem states it best,
“From these strange ashes-HOPE will arise!”
Here’s to that.
UPDATE: My painting was rescued! I received this photo from a dear friend in Ukraine. This is at the hand of a rescuer…
