toast

when the gun spoke, many paused
raised their hands to their and mouths and gasped:
it was their anguish rising
their expression of horror and surprise.

i, numb and shocked
lost blood and went faint.
laying wounded on the ground
i wandered through some pain
rushed through sins fused within my mind.

"who'll escort me through death?", i asked.
"is God angry with me?"
"whom must i forgive?"
"will my passage be swift?"

all stared when the medics arrived
looking at me as a filthy spot.
needled and drugged
they shoved me onto their cart
rushing off, talking about butterscotch.

life goes on, the shock subsides;
buses caught, cars engaged.
chatter returns to the level of fear:
"i'm lucky it wasn't me";
"he must've deserved it", they say.
dying or getting well
i ask the question, "why?";
"did i know i had this coming?"
stripped and bleeding in my head.

no one saw me as martyr nor victim of crime
but one of the decorations life demands at times;
ancient, pervasive and chilling at most
daily bread in a nation where violence is toast.



*These shamans know how to enter and interpret the world of dreams where the ways of magic and healing derived their power.  They were called "powwows" (pauwaus) - "dreamers" in the Algonquin language.  Powwowing could heal an ailment or an injury, but it could not heal human relations.
-Richard E. Wentz


*...healing is a cosmic affair, that life is worth living where  you know how to use words and actions that otherwise seem to have no utilization or functional value whatever.
-Richard E. Wentz



*After spending the night in the intense intimacy of the healing dance, the people will speak of how good it is to be together.  The Kung refer to the healing dance as num chxi.  The sense of chxi is "to gather together to sing and dance." "A good dance makes our hearts happy", they say.  And a "happy heart" - the expression of spiritual balance - is what heals the people.
-Richard Katz


















































des;
buses caught, cars enggge