Hunter gatherer

Inside every man sits a shaman in a loin cloth

every once in awhile

we become aware of his presence

when he dips his spear at the throat of someone who asks you

how do you stand the silence?

how do you cope with the diagnosis?

how do you take your mind off the pain?

he flicks the latch

on the hope in your chest

and says

get inside

he drops his spear

climbs in behind you

pulls the lid

grabs your face

presses your foreheads together

as his breath carves a hole in the heart of darkness

unearthed is God’s secret with you:

travel light

follow seasons

go where the food is

it looks different for everyone

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