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Listening to the drums (primal poetry)

he heart begins slightly to race
and she is not happy. The steady
thum, thum, thum, is not her taste.

a little boy is being physically bullied,
forced to be subservient to the will
of a more powerful other.

mind then drifts to abstractions
where it picks up the eternals
to bridge the tempora sphere.

Then the beat calls me back, the heart
has accustomed, and I can understand;
after all, we all come out of Africa.

Today it is not just sticks beating against
animal skin. Today the sound is different
as if it had a voice that would speak to me.

but what emotion is there in monotony,
what ice, what fire can a monotone create.
Still I do not drift, still I do not fall in.

Editing stage: 
Workshop: 

Comments

that you are still having difficulty in gaining that space where you are in the throes of a vision. Keep trying, you will learn to ignore those around you and maybe try to eliminate those that distract you. ~ Geezer.
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if you try it a few more times, perhaps different drumbeats might help, I've given links to several on the workshop page, you will go on a journey, I promise.

cheers,
Jess
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