Mother Drum - Cynthia Poten

[Larry Robinson]

Mother Drum

The new day opens in truck rumble
and a scatter of chickadee song 
Clusters of fruit sing at my window
lemony airs in the Key of Light
sun waking the leaves
sweeping long shadows from the grass
igniting each parched blade

Each blade is a beat of the Mother drum 
pulsing her rhythms of birth and rebirth
the earth, the water, the light, the air
pulsing morning, pulsing mourning
for a four-year old, for her mother
as murder  moves on

And everywhere, in this world on fire
the missing beats …  the lost wing tribes
the wild fur tribes
so certain, so silent, so pouncing swift
the bee tribes lost to the honey-bloom

Still the living pulse calls … and calls
and I don’t know if trust is Grace
or a chord the heart hears
a galaxy chord of dust and stars,
of miracle rains and warm breath

My friend Alan tells me nobody apprehends
that the We can know and the I can not 

I think he must mean the legacy I
Europe’s conqueror, lonely, angry I
locked into self serving selves
feeding the fires of violence
grave over grave 
families grieving
refugee storm clouds flashing

And I ask you, what is left us now
but to trust the We, the knowing We
to enter each day holding hands
singing in the Key of Praise
singing care for all Being
singing for equality and kindness
singing forgiveness and mercy
singing the harmonies that bind us 

- Cynthia Poten


Cynthia Poten
“Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”
	- Wendell Berry



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