A selection from Castina Charles' book Baad Ass Poetry

The Drum

All children are taught to revere it
The Holy God of Sound
from one town to the next
over the soaring mountains
to the roaring seas
Its powerful roar creeps…
into the psyche of all who hears it.
It moves me…It moooves me
My soul is trembling
The chosen one beats it
Slowly…rhythmatically
Its magnetic energy takes possession of me.
The beat picks up
I am hypnotized
My body convulses
I am no longer in control
Dum dee Dum Dum…Dum dee Dum Dum
My blood flows stronger
Dum dee Dum Dum…the drum beats harder
Bum Bum…Bum Bum…My heart beats harder
I am a slave to its mystical sound.
The drum begins to beat at a manic pace
My legs kick at a frantic pace
Black dust kicks up into the air
My mind is flushing bloody red
The Gods call to me
chanting sweet melodies in my ear
“Oh man of dirt, man of dirt
Do your sumba for me
Oh man of dirt, man of dirt
Do you not hear the sumba calling”
The drum is inside of me
I am it and it is me
I beat for it and it beats for me
And for a few seconds our differences are indistinguishable
The beat stops.
And the rhythm dies
The Night sky is born
and its diamonds are bright
The people gather around me
Asking me
“Tell me, Tell me, What did the gods say?”
And I respond
“The Gods say, the Drum is ALIVE!”