Poem of the Week Joe Kidd

Joe Kidd

Joe Kidd is a working, poet/songwriter. In 2020, published The Invisible Waterhole, a collection of spiritual and sensual verse. Awarded by the Michigan Governor’s Office and the US House of Representatives. Joe was Beat Poet Laureate State of Michigan 2022-2024, and Official Poet of Birland North Africa. Honorary Doctorate from International Union Peace Federation. Toured Europe, North America, & Caribbean Islands, featured in international anthologies, magazines, websites, festivals, more. Member of National & International Beat Poet Foundation, 100K Poets For Change, Michigan Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame.

Backstory

I will begin in the tongue of the old ones. “Yanti Jote’Ewame” Peace to all who read this.

My mother always told us that we were Irish and Black Dutch. I was forever confused by the latter because I was neither Black nor Dutch. It was much later that I learned that “Black Dutch” was a term used by Native Americans and darker complected people in Appalachia to avoid certain prejudice that was prevalent at the time. This revelation led me on my supernatural quest to find my ancestors, my animal, my heart.

I left home with nothing. I was not on crutches at the time, I walked, hitchhiked, starved myself, slept on river banks, ingested psychedelics, did everything possible to free myself of the shackles of this world.

This past summer, still on my quest, I attended my first sweat lodge ceremony. A four-foot-high lodge built from organic material in the middle of a tall forest. Nine men, eight inside the lodge, one outside to feed the stones of the ceremony. We circled around the interior. In the center was the holy fire. The hot, glowing rocks. Before we began, we talked of the tradition, how the rocks were the solidified spirits of the ancestors. How the fire and the ritual would free them to communicate with us. How we were animated “Walking Dirt.” We bowed to the 7 directions (including our hearts). We took off our shoes and our shirts, and we crawled through the small doorway and circled into the lodge. It was already hot. More hot rocks were shoveled into the receiving pit. We dropped water, tobacco, cedar, sage, and pine onto the stones. The air was fragrant, thick and wet. The door was closed, and we were engulfed in complete darkness. No light, no sound except for the sizzling boulders. I decided early on to breathe slowly and deliberately. To stay calm. To receive the gifts of the spirits who were in the room and speaking clearly in their way. They surrounded us, they entered us. Our leader began to drum. We began to chant. We sang in a number of native languages. Cherokee, Lakota, Oneida, Dine, others. By now, the air was like breathing underwater. My body was soaking wet with sweat. I have never felt more alive. Never felt more as one with all of creation. After two hours, we were barely able to drag ourselves out of the lodge. We could not stand up on our own. It took another hour to come back to earth. The piece that I am offering here is a result of that day in July 2024. Later, I found my buffalo, or he found me, I fed him carrots by hand without fear or hesitation. I thank the good people of Otter Creek.

WALKING DIRT

now animated by the flame
ignited by the oxygen in the breath of the creator
held in the bosom of the natural realm
we awaken from the comfort of the mother
held together by her gravity
we are translucent atomic ghosts of our ancestors
the giants, the trees, the rain, the stars
we inherit their form, we inherit their language, we inherit their secrets
in true communication we must learn to melt, dissolve
to open the space between our cellular structure
we must suffocate under the weight of the love
that when realized, is a lethal force
our wisdom is energy, still potential
frozen, congealed, in an infinite grave
delivered in the smoke of a burning question
one foot on the hill, one hand in the sky
fossilized bodies stirred by the song
at once together and alone, we are one as the spirit cools and descends
we solidify back to original state, silent and still, we wait in eternity
to be called upon to answer a prayer
to release the love that is stored within
a dangerous task that is offered to the brave
those who seek a mystery, a dialect hidden in its clarity
what once was buried, now exposed and free
and we are the chosen who share this quest
the enlightenment of birth and the peace of the dead
righteous apparition, purification
full communion, eternal dance, talking stones
to shatter the mirror of cruelty and deception
there is only one life, and it is forever
no limitation, no separation
there is no beginning, there is no end
and we must walk on, and on, and on
again and again, the wind behind us
the mountains and rivers guide our steps
until our spirits remember the path
until our feet return to the source
until our purpose has been achieved
until each of our breathing brothers and sisters
has found a home and a peaceful heart

© 2024 Joe Kidd