Dolour & the little bird

I leaned back and cried into the dirty, pink water,
Internalising tremors
when I could, 
To accommodate a framed, sane society. 
​
I slept, ate, swam, taught children,
Laughed sometimes, 
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
too much.

And when tribe had had enough witnessing
To this silent grief,
I was pushed, 

Morose girl;
​
Squawking, like a new-born bird,
I fell,
​Tumbling with a thud. 

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