Meeting the Shaman In My Head

Beyond the invincible Death, Past the infectious Icons, The ever-winding spatial staircase, And the crack between Time and Space, Lies the unconscious mind, the ethereal plane, and the land of the lost. I have traveled miles to be here, And there are miles to go before I wake. On a vaguely familiar cracked playground, Where weeds grow wild Between fences, bleachers, and tents, At the crossroads of interconnectedness I will be meeting him, Or He will be meeting me. I notice distinctly that It is light but there is no sun in the sky. There is something non-real, yet realer than existence, about this setting. On top of the bleachers a small black child beckons me Toward him. His face reminds me of my childhood; His smile reminds me of my long lost home; There is something both wise and foolish about the way he smiles. He strides back and forth across the top bleacher; As I get closer he informs me, “Animals are the dead coming back to communicate with us.” Some of what he says doesn’t make sense. “Mij saw I,” he chants. He informs me that if ever I want to see him, I am to come to this spot. As I try to look at my hands, The child drops off the back of bleachers, Disappearing into oblivion. -Joseph DeMarco