The Shamans Song


The shamans song
felt more than heard
in the pounding hooves of the reindeer
moving through a patchwork of evergreen
with steaming breath and liquid eyes
you must spread your senses wide like a net for fish
to bring in the shaman music
you must cajole and protect it and invite it to pierce you
swim through your blood and beat in your heart with the cadence of hooves
the notes are written in cloud and steam and etched frostbright
on the surface of the lake
it changes with every breeze
every bee wing and silver grayling scale are joined in the melody
the rhythm of the night, of the day
the spirits of the past
the calling of the geese and the last gasps of the dying
and still the stars dance
the people sing
and the reindeer shed their antlers and run

*photo by hamid sardar*


“Sornuk Valley, Hovsgol Province, Outer Mongolia. A Duhalar child falls asleep on a white reindeer as her mother milks the herd nearby. The Duhalar reindeer people live in Hovsgol — the land of the blue lake — a territory of about 65,000 sq. km in Northwestern Mongolia bordering the tiny Russian Republic of Tuva. The Duhalar are the guardians of this hidden realm, patrolling a maze of evergreen forests and snow-capped mountains on the backs of their stocky reindeer. They gain a meager existence by hunting for furs and antlers, which they sell in a nearby Mongol town. The Duhalar depend on a healthy domestic reindeer population not just for their milk and as a means of transport but also for their spirituality – to move through a forest haunted by the spirits of their ancestors who counsel the living through the shaman’s songs. If the reindeer vanish, the songlines of the ancestors will also cease to exist.”




About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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5 Responses to The Shamans Song

  1. cpsingleton42 says:

    What a fantastically interesting piece!! FANKS for sharing!

  2. hocuspocus13 says:

    Reblogged this on hocuspocus13.

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