When I hear the native drum beat calling all my tribal brothers.
Cannot sit and listen softly have to join in with the others.
Native pulses stamping circles, footsteps trace the tribal dances.
Ev’ry member keeps the rhythm leading into sacred trances.
Listen closely, feel it take you, journey to the inner meaning.
All my life I knew I needed ways to penetrate the screening.
Feel the blood of father's fam'ly, Cherokee is half my being.
Stirring drumbeats from our hist'ry all are part of ritual seeing.
Now I live in rural Wiltshire far away from ancient homeland.
Pagan ritual joined with drumbeats, this is Jem in modern England.
© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.
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