Shaman, Healer 2000And in the puffiness of hands and face
Is there still hidden a man of grace,
Who sees out from my eyes with fear
And yet protects me, when he’s near?
I give him space and time and clothes
And in return for all of those,
He gives me courage, strength and passion,
Which on my own, I cannot fashion.
His dreams are painful, full of hurt
And ugly shame, but out of dirt
His soul soars free, so much above
My own: (is this the self I love?)
Are we two souls; are we berdache,
Shaman, healer, wise and brash?
His fire burns my body raw;
His gifts to me I hold with awe.
ProseThe general theme of my writing stayed the same; for the most part, the young, alienated teenager who faces becoming even more of an outsider when he discovers he is gay. Should he tell or should
