I leaned back and cried into the dirty, pink water,
when I could,
To accommodate a framed, sane society.
I slept, ate, swam, taught children,
And sang among tears
That were contextualised
when the medicine woman stood.
But magic only happened between cups and shamanic songs,
Barriers fell and all was love;
Day-to-day life was walled,
I felt alone
And when tribe had had enough witnessing
To this silent grief,
I was pushed,
Squawking, like a new-born bird,
Tumbling with a thud.