Sunday, December 28, 2008
Shaman (poem by Jane Green)
Shaman
Jane Green
The sounds from a shell
summon the Shaman.
She enters the wind,
the echo of bells,
a low drumbeat,
some curls of smoke,
a fingered wing,
the wet through clouds,
the dry rose print
of sage-colored moss.
She mixes the mud,
applies a poultice,
a few cheek smudges,
a stripe for the brow,
a hollow beneath
the etch of a frame,
a mesa or arch
bordered by bone.
With a crow's black feather
she applies a thin trail
in the crevice of elbows
to open twin palms.
She circles veined wrists
around and around,
then swirls with a stretch
to the ledge of alarm.
She stirs a cracked shell
found molded in sand,
a relief of her profile
sunk between layers,
opened by splinters,
imbedded by arrows
in bundled straw.
She twirls the incense,
the timbers of limbs,
batons of pink ribbons,
fire-edged sparkles,
the horizon's rim.
She prepares a potion
to elicit the drawl,
the cushion of comfort
for the One of All,
then rings the invite,
the trickle of fountains,
the ting, ting, ting
for the quarter of some
unexpected but
approaching hour.
The sounds from a shell
summon the Shaman.
She enters the wind,
the echo of bells,
a low drumbeat,
some curls of smoke,
a fingered wing,
the wet through clouds,
the dry rose print
of sage-colored moss.
She mixes the mud,
applies a poultice,
a few cheek smudges,
a stripe for the brow,
a hollow beneath
the etch of a frame,
a mesa or arch
bordered by bone.
With a crow's black feather
she applies a thin trail
in the crevice of elbows
to open twin palms.
She circles veined wrists
around and around,
then swirls with a stretch
to the ledge of alarm.
She stirs a cracked shell
found molded in sand,
a relief of her profile
sunk between layers,
opened by splinters,
imbedded by arrows
in bundled straw.
She twirls the incense,
the timbers of limbs,
batons of pink ribbons,
fire-edged sparkles,
the horizon's rim.
She prepares a potion
to elicit the drawl,
the cushion of comfort
for the One of All,
then rings the invite,
the trickle of fountains,
the ting, ting, ting
for the quarter of some
unexpected but
approaching hour.
