Meeting The Shaman In My Head Poem by Joseph DeMarco

Beyond the invincible Death,
Past the infectious Icons,
The ever-winding spatial staircase,
And the crack between Time and Space,
Lies the unconscious mind, the ethereal plane, and the land of the lost.
I have traveled miles to be here,
And there are miles to go before I wake.
On a vaguely familiar cracked playground,
Where weeds grow wild
Between fences, bleachers, and tents,
At the crossroads of interconnectedness
I will be meeting him,
Or
He will be meeting me.
I notice distinctly that
It is light but there is no sun in the sky.
There is something non-real, yet realer than existence, about this setting.
On top of the bleachers a small black child beckons me
Toward him.
His face reminds me of my childhood;
His smile reminds me of my long lost home;
There is something both wise and foolish about the way he smiles.
He strides back and forth across the top bleacher;
As I get closer he informs me,
“Animals are the dead coming back to communicate with us.”
Some of what he says doesn’t make sense.
“Mij saw I, ” he chants.
He informs me that if ever I want to see him,
I am to come to this spot.
As I try to look at my hands,
The child drops off the back of bleachers,
Disappearing into oblivion.