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