I remember feeling special

hoping for a path beyond the Law of reason

with shamanic powers

to grasp and change

and save myself,

my family from death,

uninvited decay and dissonance.

 

Owl came to whisper

“Shaman-child, be born again”

I was afraid to die with Her.

Purgation feels wrong and putrid,

an offense to creating hope and faith.

This death would be too common

for my Self-potential Shaman.

 

Bear came to teach me

hibernation’s coincidental embrace,

and not death.

My cave of fear is where I sleep

until spacetime is ready

to call forth one of her eternal pearls.

One among all, each with our place

and time to shine

smooth-structured

fluid,

a reincarnating pearl

well-strung strong

in harmonious round octave

to carry forth our future

pearl of paradise.

 

Yet still I want and wait and balk and fear

disgraced ungrateful,

ungraced disgrateful,

wishing victory for my silent cave

of dark potential integrity.

If I could make it so

I would,

to call out Spring of hope at last

our season of regenesis,

but are we ready?

So still I wait and balk and fear.

I confuse my faith

with our self-consciousness.

 

Raven calls the Shaman call

within Elder cave’s cell-consciousness;

regenesis is always near

between tomorrow and right now.

We are only this integrity,

Eternal Moment’s potentiality

toward vast polyculturant affection

through present’s winnowing comparison

with past negative effects.

Shared black silo of fearful smothering

alone without relationship to space or time.

Turn around.

Our positive pilgrimage rises convexly,

together toward expanding solidarity.

 

With obedient trepidation

I face about to face the face

Other knows about,

with timid voice, I hesitate,

“Does the Shaman assembly accept your verdict?”

 

It’s not my place to speak this way

but silence screams back to me

“Okay.”

 

More confident with building hope

“Does our shamanic assembly accept our verdict?”

Again the reconnecting cave of reconciliating

silent wisdom string

stretching back through cultured history of pearls.

 

Incarnating faith,

with graceful dance of presence,

“Do we accept present integrity

of future’s positive promise?”

I sing our dance

reechoing strings of eco-normic pearls

toward future’s present past.

 

Permacultured pearls prance prescient presence.