Traditional Healer

Sometimes I cannot sleep In the abyss of my stomach My muscles weep My gut sinks and falls deep Into the ashes of my sadness And I hear that feeling creep Crawling eight legged, without leaps And tells me to be still. No emotion Frozen. The visuals appear And I see my preoccupation With death, play itself out I feel the asphyxiation, the nausea and pain I see the blood, in slow motion again Droplets sprinkle through the sky And plaster across my face Is this my destiny? Or has the psyche been misplaced Mistaken for the wise one, sagacious Present African Swiss presented ancesterous Dimensions that exit the premise of this world Float in saltwater, captured in bottles, blurred Am I jumping to endings, pretending That if I were chosen, I would be understanding? Why am I fascinated by her at night? In the darkness I am entertained, more than in fright I call them all, but they lack sight Because when I can see it Those on earth call it foresight.