Thursday, 11 July 2013

Dancing Feet

Here am I, in the Sinai desert, with my dance troupe, at dawn, performing to the music of oud and drums. It is my fifty-first birthday. As I recall the magic of this day, I am reminded of my strength and my resilience and am full of laughter. I hope this comes through in the writing.

A Work of Heart

To write this poem, 
I planted my feet,
Strong, bare feet,
Firmly, in the sand.

I raised my arms, then, 
Dropped them, as I was taught,
To my shoulders.

Aligning my palms to the strengthening sun,
I waited,
Alert, for the words

To drift, or bounce or slide


          With the music.

I lifted my head and
Listened, listening,
For the deluge.

Quietly at first...

Trilling over my fingertips
Snaking down my arms
Shivering across my shoulders
Thrumming through my breast
Shimmying with my hips




Clapping with my hands
Stamping with my feet -

The poem came!


                    I DANCED.

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