Drumbeat
The stinging beats of
the drum jolted you
out of your nice siesta.
Whilst your tired, teary eyes
still carry the tales from
the valley between death
and slumber, the drumbeat
will remind you of the debt
of being awake.
As your fixed stare slices
through the blank space,
the stings from the drumbeat
will take you back, way back
to when your head did the
walking while your legs did the
thinking. To walk suddenly
becomes frightening, from the
fear of mangling your thoughts.
You ask: Who is beating the
drums? Why does this beat sting
so hard? You wish your head
could walk again, and take you into
the street corners, and the
open backyards, to find who
the beater of this drum is. It's
now clear that there will be
no motion. So you pray for the
beats to stop. But they keep
getting louder.
And whilst still stationed on
the same spot, you realise
that the drumbeat is a gift: to
unsee the already seen.