Inuit Trance Chant
Geese flee with the north wind,
but we rise into thin skies
over white waves of tundra,
glacier glass, permafrost.
We don’t believe, we fear the
unseen.
In routine, we search for patterns:
by eating from the sea to save
ourselves
we release souls angry to the air.
May custom calm the formless
spirits,
ritual appease invisible things.
We seek protection from their
revenge,
we beg them to let us live.
Catherine Zickgraf
Catherine Zickgraf’s
main jobs are to hang out with her family and write poetry. Her work has
appeared in the Journal of the American Medical Association, Pank, Victorian
Violet Press and The Grief Diaries. Her recent chapbook, Soul
Full of Eye, is published through Aldrich Press
Tags:
Poetry