Shake the feathered rattle,
Paint my face with charcoal and ash,
Wave the bamboo wand
In front of my sleepy eyes
As I sweat and convulse
Beneath a leafy canopy,
Before a joyful congregation.
Let this moment grant profound relief,
Let me fool myself into thinking I can walk,
And that this light that tips me forward on my knees
Is ancient, wise, calm, and clear to my restive soul.
Mystery then shall dissolve into darkness,
Desire shall abate into a trance.
The music swells, the drums thunder,
And I am no longer writhing on this straw mat.
Gary Witt
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poultice-and-prayer/
