It seems fitting that I rediscovered this poem I wrote for Chiharu Shiota’s installation at Berlin’s oldest church, St. Nikolai Kirche, titled Lost Words—a poem lost and then found. I rewrote it, and I think initially I just didn’t have the words to write it. The installation is fascinating, created with thousands of pages of the Bible in different languages, tangled and seemingly blown away by some invisible wind. The artwork was created to commemorate the 500th year of the Protestant Reformation that was celebrated in Germany in 2017. Shiota drew on her own history of migration, of her native Japan and having migrated to Germany where she now resides, and a kind of reverse migration of Portuguese missionaries in the 16th century who came from the west to spread Christianity in Japan. Christianity was subsequently banned in Japan, so that Japanese Christians had to go into hiding to practice their religion. The themes of immigration through storytelling is at the heart of Shiota’s work, with the black thread representing a universal element of connection, such as the night sky.
Shiota said this about Lost Words: “Our heart, soul and feelings empower the act of moving. They serve as the energy of our decisions and beliefs. My installation of floating Bible pages conveys this concept.
And here is the poem I wrote, inspired by the installation:
words, inspired
divine, arc through eons
shaped by different tongues
migrating as stories told
and prayers incanted
in whispers, at times
stifled as heresy
yet printed boldly
in faded ink
those words still live
inscribed in heart
and soul, the very essence
of being, belief
always to be heard
never to be erased
(Poem inspired by Chiharu Shiota’s installation, Lost Words, Berlin, 2017
© Angela Jooste)