When the Drum Speaks
At dusk, the drum remembers the earth.
It's a slow breath rising from the hand and the hide.
Each beat is an ancestor
walking quietly home.
The old ones said:
“Before words, there was rhythm.”
Life was simple then
Fire, water, shared silence.
Feet knew the ground,
Hearts knew where they belonged.
The drum does not call us forward.
It calls us back
to live gently,
to remember.
Art by Serin Alar
🖊Poem: Piahn
At dusk, the drum remembers the earth.
It's a slow breath rising from the hand and the hide.
Each beat is an ancestor
walking quietly home.
The old ones said:
“Before words, there was rhythm.”
Life was simple then
Fire, water, shared silence.
Feet knew the ground,
Hearts knew where they belonged.
The drum does not call us forward.
It calls us back
to live gently,
to remember.
Art by Serin Alar
🖊Poem: Piahn
11:23 AM - Dec 20, 2025
Only people mentioned by Suzy2s in this post can reply
Ingrid Colby
@ingajana
20 December, 11:30
In response Susan Taapken to her Publication
ahhh. peace, love and beautiful words.
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