I spent time with my new drum this morning,
sending its voice into the forest,
and to you.

We sing
so that you might call on us.

I didn’t know where we were going,
out there,
in here,
yes – more here.

The room swelled with our beat,
a circle vibration
louder
and again.
Trinkets – wood and glass
buzzed
with the strong horse hide.

I remembered the depths of sorrow in me,
are less than
a drop of your water.

I saw that my heart was still boyant,
and your tides would
some day
calm.

Now the Oaks are not silent,
and I can speak the language
of the wind
again.

When the storms pass
in a few weeks,
I will swim in you.

Drum made by teacher, artist, shamanic practitioner, and master drum maker, Wild Horse Charley Conatser.  Cwconatser@aol.com.