Kami is again fortunate to have a truly lovely poem for you to read: "A Shaman's Prayer" by M.L.'Max' Roth. Max definitely fits in here at Coyote Madonna.
A SHAMAN'S PRAYER By M.L. 'Max' Roth
I Breaking at the bottom of our ramp she inquired In the middle of a wide swinging left Floating over asphalt waters in the dark Weeds, wildflowers grown tall and silhouetted .....vines searching damp retaining walls A wheel sliding through my cupped fingers Alone again, where a moment before I panicked overcome .....by a tsunami of oncoming headlights Ghosts in our rearview mirror leaving the freeway behind A giant neon lizard slipping through mountains its trail .....from Pasadena to the Santa Clarita valley Cruising an empty passage, spied upon by pigeons .....late, illuminated Only I travel this road tonight on fumes uncertain And the fireflies It's not as if I hadn't inquired of myself previously What is your name, is this the plan, is that a plane .....blinking overhead in our cobalt sky .....or a traveling star Are you a shaman? I searched the dashboard's backlit gauges What words had not been spoken between us on our long drive Is this, her query, fruition of a kind When we were kids, you realized I was of The Path Yes, I finally confessed Dreaming because I knew this boulevard so well And the night swallowed us. While you sleep I am a sojourner without time and place Free to move, constrained simply by my own limitations My pain inexplicable Please call my name softly For I bear tired crosses, empty pockets, no miracles. I was once a boy who wore his catcher's mitt .....and played at staring into the sun I was an atheist rejecting God .....because I wanted to be my father I was a Jew with all of the attendant nightmares .....and a distaste for my own exclusivity I was a rebel Zennist A Taoist seeker of the middle way Though the watercourse does not flow except .....between tight rocks, trapped in tide pools One gets roughed up, learns, carries the pain One does not arrive without impunity I was one with the spirit, blind, afraid of being alone I was one who believed we are born alone and die alone I was misinformed on many issues So when you reach out Please call my name softly I bear tired crosses, misfortunes, insecurities And I am not in the business of miracles. I am a shaman, a healer, a not very wise man Who speaks with the guides .....Black Raven Dancer, Grey Cat Elder, .....Bear Medicine Doctor, Jesus, all positive healing .....entities, teaching entities of The Four Directions .....of The Great Mystery I will ground through God Take you within Breathe for you Filling your lungs with violet light Bear's smudge and rattle and herbal pot Sitting on my pillow I inhale deep the spirit You will call my name, Glowing Hands But please don't ask how Because I only do what I do, as it is given And I play such a small part You change your life, not I I am not in the business of miracles Energy is fickle And whom shall I call when I am sick When I wretch and pray for death? Who will pray for Glowing Hands while I sleep Yes, I am a shaman, it has been given I shall turn the medicine wheel Accept its gifts Discover myself as The Great Mystery But who sits the pillow Who prays for the shaman? II The guides do not speak It is given, understood From the beginning as The Great Mystery lifts .....coaxing giant rich redwoods through the cloud break To realize this life in full, its aesthetic beauty The drama of bounty One is of this life, not bound in it One lives apart from the tribe Yet is tied by love to The Mother's children With toughened hemp, chewed and knotted Dragged through the river over sharp stones .....bleeding Burning away the hours one travels a ceaseless journey Into the depths of the soul of one's own humanity You will come to me, calling softly And I will know you, know your affliction As it is given that I cut my self a wound The natural glory and scars As it is given that I respect The Great Mystery As it is given that we share pain And still I drive further along the journey Turn the medicine wheel, for mine is not renunciation Sitting across the river I watch Make of me what you will It has been given that I shall heal You will call me curandero You will call me bear doctor You will call me yogi You will call me shaman And I will patiently sit, awaiting death, feeling your pain Leaking oil at a red light behind a quiet bronze Lexus She looks at me wondering if it will ever change Does The Path end Who prays for the shaman? Just once I would like to pull my own tooth Sooth my own stomach spasms I tell her, and she nods Drain my sinuses she says Ease my bunions. Take me back, peel the layers, make the little girl smile Prepare me for love, Glowing Hands Make me whole for I know not what that is Steal my loneliness, Glowing Hands, in this life .....ease my bruises Help me feel God, it's been so long my ribs are sore All of that I can do, it's a strange fate And the neighborhood seems familiar, I know we are close It smells right I can feel it against my skin Home, I inquire of her Hold a glorious thought on our long drive home. End © M.L. Roth M.L. Roth lives and writes in Southern California.
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