Shaman Song


Medicine woman gathering sap

Amber balm of tree

Trapping Loon’s sad laughter

~ ~ ~

Holy man drumming

Surf pounds island shore

Beating stone prayers

~ ~ ~

Salish hunter singing

Heron watches Eagle’s reflection

Listening to all the drums

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Thursday Poets Rally Week 52,

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18 Comments

Filed under Haiku, Poetry

18 responses to “Shaman Song

  1. Nice haiku triplet–lot’s of great lines and images here 🙂

  2. Nice. I like the way your words reflect a native drum. The Native American approach to “religion” resonates with me.

    • Hi Pattiken! So many of us forget, when living in houses and traveling in vehicles, that the earth and everything on her has a song. We rarely notice it, usually don’t even hear it. I like the way haiku makes me stop, watch and listen. Even Heron who stands above the water, waiting to catch his meal, sees eagle’s reflection’ even eagle wings sing like flutes when they play with the wind.

  3. very beautiful imagery,

    wow.
    glad to see your poetic muses pop open and shine.

  4. Simple yet sweet, and with great rhythm. Good job

  5. Loved the imagery….I had a great time spending time with Shaman’s song

  6. Such beautiful images. Such a sense of peace it brings out. Tempted to sing along with you…

    She sorts them out in her lap
    All she got for free
    From before and after.

    The clouds join in the chanting
    Deep on the ocean floor
    The pearl adds another layer.

    The evening sun descending
    Over the far horizon
    Smiles in benefaction.

  7. mind opening indeed.
    thanks for the smiles.

  8. They are all lovely but the first one will stick with me. Thank you.

    • Thank you Anna, The first one contains the thought that first inspired this trilogy of Haiku. My friend told me she had been gathering tree sap to make medicine balm, and she heard a strange call coming from the waters of the sound; she turned to see two loons calling. I suggested that this might make her balm more potent and she agreed. She added that the sea air and the cedar trees would also make it powerful. I kept thinking about the loon, and her sap-gathering. I thought of the russian amber ring I have, with an insect’s leg trapped inside. I wondered what else was trapped in the russian amber so many eons ago, and if a loon’s cry was inside. That’s how the first lines came about. The others came after thinking about this same friend who beats the drum when she prays to the four directions. Her prayer, like the loons’ call is powerful. And I thought of the waves on the beach of this island, how they beat on the round, flattened rocks and make their own drumming rythym. Heron fishes on the pier below my house. He makes a raucus cry when he flies over my shoulder as I walk the beach with my dog, but when he’s gazing at the water, he is perfectly silent. One day I caught him gazing at the mirror smooth surface of the bay, while eagle circled overhead, probably waiting to see what Heron would catch. Eagle’s “speeeer” call filled the air and I realised the connection between them. The conversation. Heron watched eagle’s reflection as he stood there fishing, making sure eagle didn’t steal his lunch. We miss so much when we live in houses. We miss the sounds that will become trapped in tree-vein sap.

  9. jmchri13

    Such simple descriptions, yet so much depth. This poem really is “asymptotic.”

    • Okay, you made me open my dictionary. Wow – amazing word – curves, not quite landing, not off course, equations… I’ll be studying this word like an essay – you’ve bowled me over with asymptotic!

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