the drums chanting
labored by calloused hands
it doesnt know others sounds
but the deaf drumming of their longings

no one to hear…no one to understand

but men preparing yourself to battle
perfect circle and a numbing dancing,
an echo ~vibrating inside their chest~

courage  courage arousing

drum’s  rhythm it is ~the voice to be heard~

I had

A frightening vision when the spirit of war arrived
i was there at the begining ~watching~
now, i paint myself with red and white
dancing around ~i am primitive~  I’ve always been

And

no one to hear…no one to understand

photojournalist Betty Press