Shaman
Heart
like ice, eyes like fire.
Hands
that offer love for hire.
In
this house, there dwells a man.
Who
heals the soul like no one can.
Words
to inspire, a shoulder to cry on.
A
thousand faces, he can try on.
Postures,
phrasing, fine technique.
Calm
the fearful, lift the weak.
They
look to him for faith and care.
They
bring their gifts, he meets them there.
The
system works, and many find
new
strength of soul, and peace of mind.
But
when the day is spent and gone,
he
climbs the stairs and sits alone.
And
wonders how it all began
a
gentle, unassuming man
Who
makes his living, selling faith
who
stands aside and hides his face
and
never dares to show his pain
who
never doubts, and feels no shame
And
here he dwells, in sacred space
encased
in stone, with smiling face.
And
sometimes, in his room at night
his
eyes behold a fearsome sight
to
fix his gaze upon the fire
Of
Ancient Master to inquire
His
mind remembers words he spoke
they
dance with faces in the smoke
And
there he knows, with joy divine
That
he is of a different kind
A
race of beings on the Earth
a
wondrous tribe, of noble birth
Who
live their lives devoid of care
extending
hands to lift despair
Who
can't be seen, or known, or touched
who
ponder little, offer much
He
has no life apart from this
He
feels no joy, he tastes no kiss
No
sons to dance around his feet
No
tender maid, his flesh to meet
But
just to stay inside his room
Available
for all who come.
And
give to them the hope they crave
in
fair exchange for alms they gave
It
just makes sense, a noble quest
Among
his kind, this man's the best
Receive
the rubble of their lives
exchange
the sorrow, wipe the eyes
These
folks who wander here and there
In
search of hope, with cupboards bare
And
he alone can reach inside
remove
the splinters, calm the tide
He's
truly worth what people pay him
sweet
relief from fear and mayhem
So
do not judge the way he lives
the
smile he wears, the gifts he gives
But
understand that in this world
among
the stones, there lives a pearl
Who
stands alone and won't look back
who
faces darkness, fear and lack
And
wipes away the pains of life
And
cuts the bonds of guilt and strife
Then
walks away from those he helps
without
a thought about himself
Heart
like ice, eyes like fire
hands
that offer "love for hire"
This,
the lonely Shaman's call
living
life behind a wall
No
excuse for who he is
We
can't deny the help he gives
But
we can wonder, when he's gone
About
this wondrous path he's on
Is
it pride, or just a gift?
That
he would have no voice to lift
Of
hopes and fears that were his own
to
speak his pains, and make them known
To
take from hands of love with friends
to
feel and hurt like other men
Alas,
it seems we'll never know
the
spirit wind that round him blows
So
we must simply be content
to
just accept this noble gent
And
place our judgment on the shelf
And keep him hid inside ourself.
_________________________
Daniel Jacob, 1993.
Copyright,
1993-2012. All Rights Reserved.