Wanderer

I told him

Sometimes, I am so, so lonely here

Waited for his warm reassurance

But instead he just plainly said,

Get used to it

You were never meant to follow

And I knew then

He was right

And I

was free

 

 

 

We Shamans

In different days and different waters

We Shamans would pass through Worlds

Now we’re just our Mother’s daughters

Untold stories rotting girls

In times of old Where Warriors Walked

Was known as Sacred Ground

We’ve lost the Native’s Way of Respect

Look what, instead, we’ve found —

We all go inward but not to ourselves

To shiny silver machines

Detached from the world around us

Let go the World of Dreams —

That now equate to “what’s achieved”

Instead of simply Listening —

Unfolding messages we receive

Within the Very Real Dreams

That nightly we are dreaming!

Oh, how I lament our great descent

The fall of Symbolic Meaning

Remember who you are Brave Souls

Fear not the Darkness gleaming

We Shamans lift our heavy shovels

Working with Collective Shadow

Almost beyond repair

Tell me, friend, about Your Shovel —

Does it show signs of wear?

In ancient days there was a place

For those who lived beyond life’s bounds

Those who dove to the darkest depths

And managed not to drown

In different days and different waters

We Shamans passed through Worlds

Now we’re just our Mother’s daughters

Untold stories rotting girls