Shamanic
        (an invocation)

At the water's edge it's a moonlit sky.

There's no reason to speak, or ask why.

A haunting melody plays in my head
like a music box pulling, pulling...
and I begin to dance a shamanic dance.

I drift down a corridor with animal spirits
leading to where I don't know where.

I can hear the shaker of a shaman 
shaking steadily in white noise
calling, calling...

He dances to the rhythm whirling, whirling
in circles
and I remember I am homesick.

I can see his glassy eyes 
penetrate with razor intent, looking, looking,
deep to where I don't know where.

There's a steady drumbeat beating, beating...
Gets louder and  louder...

It has the power to soothe
and destroy with every beat.

It's a rhythm I once knew long ago, it seems,
and I can feel it coming to full boil
boiling, boiling...
and there's a part of me dying, dying...

The rhythm is the sound
of every soul's heart beat beating, beating.

Aligning like planets, 
like worlds swirling, swirling 
in a whirlpool of time ...
condensing into some common ground.

It seems so familiar.

The rhythm, it's the sound 
of the universe breathing, breathing,
like some ancient song
I swear we've all heard before...
Do you remember?          


© 1998 by David Bozzi
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