Purpose errant longhouse

My shaman drum is quiet, no dark solo journey for awhile,
Rather dancing in community light, acknowledging the void,
Bending my body through channels, around your arms, your back,
Perhaps lifting you up on my hip, telling smiles, remembering to breathe,
All in all these conversations blend well with polished river stone,
Wooden instruments for beating down barriers into that world,
Climbing down with confidence through roots and soil,
Meeting those allies who specified how to release and unwind old wounds,
Saying hello again, asking that perfectly-worded question,
Huge space in barn filling with voice, banjo accompaniment.