Drum Circle - February 16, 2018
DRUM CIRCLE
FEBRUARY 16, 2018
Tonight we talked to the earth
with our drums, our pulsating prayers
a rhythm and blues, a galloping growl,
an angry lament, a wretched outpouring
at the new Hunger Moon, at the latest mass
shooting, at a winter of despair in an amoral
era of high-tech and hate!
The Yoruba wail and the Lakota chant,
the bells on the drums and the tattooed dancer
joined with the chorus of tired social workers
and special-ed teachers, jet engine mechanics,
and the mysterious ascetic in the black turtle
neck whose shock of white hair was a bright
moral beacon in a room of the sad, of the
angry, and the mad seeking forgiveness and shelter
in the Gaian Intelligence that is host to our
souls and mothers our wounds when our arts and
our sciences can no longer explain the meaningless
violence, the one-upmanship, and the perpetually
disagreeable political declarations at the center of
our lives!
“Call Me!” She said, and the drummers grew
louder! “I said CALL ME!” she said, and we all
realized that she didn’t want praise or some fervent
demonstration through a ritual of worship, but the
heart of our hearts, the essence of our lives,
perhaps a promise to our mother to stop behaving
this way and to bathe in her waters, build circles of
stone, light our fires in the middle, and then…..
drum softly with conviction and dance with our
neighbors, reveling in the knowledge that
all we can discern is a gift from beyond,
a pulsating, breathing, nurturing anomaly
sacred, somehow, created only for us!
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