Drumming

There was a drumming in my heart, even way back then
Just a tiny mite trudging about the farm in my wee rubber boots
But always a drumming and I knew I marched to a different one
That was alright with me because I never could see the sense in phony
I could always see the pretense and I despised it in my wee girl way
They wondered why I shied away, why I didn’t even want to belong
Because to “belong” meant to compromise in a silly, counterfeit way
That never did make any sense to me, still doesn’t and I am glad!

To be me has been a different path to walk, but I glory in the difference
I march to that distant beat, and sometimes it is very near and I love it
It is in the gentle falling of the rain, it lurks behind the clouds, in sunbeams
It drums itself into the ways of the squirrels, birds, cattle, and all beasts
It grows in the leafy branches of the trees and in the gentle flower petals
I cherish this rhythm in my heart, I love the cadence of my drum
Djembes, ancient, native, but real and kin to me, I bask in awareness
I am content within the wondrous beat of my spirit-filled, mahogany drum
Keeping time, I feel the heart beat of the earth and melt into the sky itself.

cailin raine