To The Drummer

you struck moose-hide drum

with a match stick as long as your arm.

sonic fire

baptized our chapel.

i tip-toed through incense.


you opened your mouth to chant

but the moose sang through you.

the hymn undulated like honey.

i couldn’t lick it.

i don’t speak moose.


thunderbird rumbled in the beat.

my cheeks burned.

i perspired profusely.

my tears

doused my face.  


i realized:

we are brothers.

Jason Vaz, SJ, is a Jesuit scholastic studying theology at Regis College, University of Toronto.

No Comments

Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.

Subscribe to igNation

Subscribe to receive our latest articles delivered right to your inbox!