" I cannot think that we are useless or God would not have created us. There is one God looking down on us all. We are all the children of one God. The sun, the darkness, the winds are all listening to what we have to say.
I was born on the prairies where the wind blew free and there was nothing to break the light of the sun. I was born where there were no enclosures."
Apache Chief Geronimo
.............................................................................................
The Shaman held up his jewel encrusted medicine stick
a heady scent of opium permeated the air
the incessant beating of tom toms
pounded through my brain
my eyes met his, transfixed by his smile
he said I will be to you
like the fungi growing on the tree stump
take what you need from what I say
and sift the rest for another day
your dreams are like the wild, restless buffalo on the plains
and you are still, a long long way from home
his snakeskin rattle flew through the air
spinning in quick revolutions
illustrative pictographs in motion
like in a recurring nightmare, I took it all in
stirring vivid memories and flashbacks
of the harrowing nights I clung to my mother
when terror raged within and without
the medicine man's eyes narrowed
as he fixed me with a benign grin
the tonic for your latent illness
is to start loving yourself
above all else
I started quivering deep down inside
he knew me better than myself
painted cheeks, and emerald eyes
stark reflections of another time
he held my hand in a friendly grip
and comforted me with words of wisdom
I could tell he didn't belong to this earth
as his presence shimmered in psychadelic trance
raven hair bedecked his crown
golden ringlets on his leathery wrists
his force of will was awesome
a man of war, who gave no quarter
and who could kill with just a piercing glance
other men went weak and faint
if he just came into sight
a screeching owl descended with outstretched talons
across my line of vision
I remained stock still
as his words came tumbling out
the atmosphere was charged and electric
as he chanted in measured , native tongue
and as he silently began to vanish
behind a ritual haze
I heard a barely audible whisper
draw closer to Great Spirit
and Great Spirit will draw closer to you
Copyright by Peter Paton 2006