On this day in 1890 Vincent Van Gogh shot himself
in a wheat field outside Auvers-sur-Oise, France; he died
two days later, at the age of 37.

“I have painted three more big canvases....
They are vast fields of wheat under troubled skies,
and I did not need to go out of my way to try to express
sadness and extreme loneliness....

I almost think that these canvases will tell you
what I cannot say in words, the health and
restorative forces that I see in the country.”

Into the Fields

I know these blue and burdened skies
pressing down upon a troubled soul
already weighted down by world
unconcerned, a soul that only
wants to live, just to give
something to people
who want nothing
at all of me.

I keep painting big canvasses
to find peace you so sought,
to convey my gratitude.
I must put down pen,
take up the brush,
for what I feel
I cannot say 
with words.

I look to far, far country; stirring
winds call to me. When day
became too long, Vincent,
how did you know
to follow pathway
through the field?
And were you
healed?