Dance

SOC Writing _ 25.9.21

Dance

Because you are alive, because it lifts you out of the control of the mind into the far chambers of the body memory and captures your life stored in tissue, in fibres – feeling locked up in matter, released. Torn out, wet eyes and rage – to find self on the ground of this wild frontier – the only land you will ever be properly marooned on. So I dance to save myself, over and over again – I dance because these prayers in me must get out – become part of the whole, ancient, timeless prayer we, and all creation are uttering. The bear is by the fire and the wild, wounded god is pleading with us to tend to his body – tend to what must move or be smothered in the thick layer of smog our civilization likes to call life. It calls in death, pain, despair – licks those wounds and asks for a whisky. I can only feel my tears – my heart shuddering for all the pent up divinity that leaks down my loins – takes clothing off to find no specimen of human, but wild creature part of stone, bone, wood water, sky – I cry openly in my living room for you and for the wounds I carry that may always be there – I tend them – my dance is a sort of source code maker able to reline the grooves of my mind with something that transcends and includes all of this broken, bloody, messy human - wild and shy and not wanting the old to die, but miles away and up in a tree the birds are singing, the thrush tugs at dry plants to create a soft bed for the next generation of life that surely is coming to pass even as I grieve it, love it and bow the deepest bow before taking my seat at this feast of love and loss - the only place that is sure is where my feet – looked down on in love, have their footing – even there they can be lost – but always, always they can dance.