It's soft ancient floor to tread upon
Firs and pines stand guard
Totems from the people of the land
Masked dances and deep forest drum rhythms
Calling her to see
It all takes her, consumes her
Burns her Victorian memory
Potlatch painter of the way
She sits with sharpened gaze
Her brushes have a will to see
On course hemp pulled taught around pine frame
Pigments of the earth ochre ,umber, sienna and indigo
Mixed under sun's magic light to see life as it is
So there she sits beneath thunder bird totems of the Haida
The eagle dances in the sky
Her images shine from the forests' deepest groves
Emily where are you now?
Does the Raven know?
I see you in those images bold and magical
I sigh with relief
