Shamaness
I remain a stranger
to my husband’s kin
it’s strange I miss their stranger’s skin
but bring taboo to skin they’re in
if words I speak upon their name
I hide my words
in fear of harm
displease the trees who delivered man
and breezed them on a wind to farm
the land trees put aside for them
in my hands, a harp I made
bear and eagle, age they gave
a single reed cut from a blade
shamanic lines taught me to play
so free was I in what I say
so put to lips and plucked with breath
my voice through brass
at times bamboo
you will find it placed in my burial
alongside my husband and his voice too
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