Deep inside
the Medicine Man lives.
Not so far away
he can’t hear me,
but far enough
so I can hear myself.

His long gray-white hair
pulled back into a loose ponytail,
that dangles like time
on the edge of a bottomless universe.
His high cheek bones
rise like mesas, cutting
through the deep wrinkles
worn into his ancient face
by generations of earth-shattering laughter
and deep rivers overflowing with tears.

His medicine is very powerful;
much more so than my darkness,
which now surrenders to him
at a mere watchful glance.
Throughout my life,
I’ve sensed he’s been there,
but until recent years,
I was afraid to call his name.

I know he’s very wise because
he respects the darkness,
for there too we must live.
Even more so, he respects the light,
knowing never to look directly
into the blinding rays of the sun.
Somewhere between the two
he finds just the wisdom that I need.

And somewhere in this wisdom,
I find myself.

Click here to hear me read this poem:
[odeo=http://odeo.com/audio/13301373/view]