Somewhere, someone is playing some drum.
The pounding, slapping, hitting,
staccato beat refills the engine of the world of men.
Someone else is fancy dancing, twirling feathered fringe,
food stomping, hip shaking, head swaying beat
breathing life into the world of men.
Someone else is singing, sound flowing,
the breath, like a sunrise, ah ah ah ah ah ah
open mind, open mouth, open throat,
open lung, open heart
opening into the beat
keeping hearts open in the world of men.
We, in the world of men
we do not feel the drum
we do not sway with the dancers
we do not hear the song.
We live our lives
we have our desires
we work in our garden
we clean our house
we write in our journals
for the rhythm, for the breath, for the song
and still this beat goes on and on.
and still this beat goes on.
Joy Walden @2011