Ode to the Wild God
Don’t puke up the medicine. Something great has entered your body and stirs your soul. The winds sweeping up from the South cried, Don’t delete nature! Strange words. Stranger still is the language of soul, of darkness, of ancient wisdom, mixed with cultural expression. It was thunder I felt. It was the pain of spasming muscles. It was the cry of impotence. It was despair for the starving children. Trees…….trees. All I can tell you is that trees saved me. Trees kept me from running. Trees stood guard over my swollen cocoon. Please, please help me receive this medicine.
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