The Drum Song

It was nearly two in the morning, my head fell repeatedly towards the keyboard and then jerked backward as I fought the lure of sleep on my body. The term paper was due in seven hours and I still had to study for the final exam that would follow. I wasn't sure if I had it in me to complete the semester. There was a hard cold Alaskan rain falling in the parking lot outside my apartment on University avenue. For some reason, I was called to walk out onto the pavement, surounded by three two-story apartment buildings, shirtless, wearing only my basketball shorts. I looked up, invigorating drops slapped my face and ran down my cheeks. Then came the drum song, from my village. It emerged unbeckoned but with perfect timing from within my abdomen. My knees bent, bare feet stomped the pavement, arms raised to my side, and the song came. Each round filled me with greater strength, as my body shed raindrops. I'm not sure how much time past, probably enough for any cognizant neighbors to want my song to end. I returned to my basement apartment, to the table and my keyboard. Any resemblence of tiredness had lost its grip. The words flowed from thought to fingertip to screen with ease. It was in this way that I learned how powerful our songs can be for us.