author’s note:
"Dance dance dance right there on the spot"
-- The Beach Boys
OUR DANCE OF LIFE AND DEATH
A woman standing
on our east coast beach
heard about the child
and felt the impulse
to express herself in dance
and for once, did not hold back--
she wanted to be brave
in a world so cruel.
Moving in a circle
with arms crossed tightly across her chest
she suddenly
lowered to her knees
and bowed in grief
then stood back up
and lifted her face to a merciless sun
then went round again
then fell to her knees
and bowed again
then stood once again
and lifted her face to the sun.
She went on and on in this way--
she did not stop.
And when a poor man walking by
asked her “why?”
she told him of the mother and child
and in a moment he responded
by bowing to his knees
then standing back up
and opening his arms
then bowing down again
then standing again and opening
his arms.
He went on and on in this way--
he did not stop.
Two teenage girls joined them:
they’d do pirouettes
then collapse in the sand
they went on and on--
they did not stop.
And so our dance of life and death began:
a chain of rising and falling bodies
grew down the shoreline.
Many or most on the island
felt drawn--as if in a trance:
I think we felt a need to grieve
over the news story.
But maybe some were also possessed
by a deep desire to express sadness
too long repressed.
The chain of separate links
continued to build--
moving over the rolls of the dune hills
then across a field of wind grass
and onto the main road and into town
and then beyond.
As the sun touched the horizon
the chain arrived
at the other side of the island
where an unknown swan dancer
--light as a zephyr--
floated in a gossamer gown
at the edge of a cliff
to the echo of waves below.
At this point
those who’d begun the dance at the east beach
woke from their trance--
all along the way, the chain fell apart
as islanders fell out
and slowly shuffled home
in the exhaustion
of emotional/physical release.
Hardly speaking--
not needing to speak.
Yes, we’d returned
to our regular state of mind
but our regular state of mind
was now much better.
That night, the child's mother
tearfully thanked all participants
from a camera in her kitchen
but through that fall
and into the depth of gray winter
she struggled under
a persistent weight of grief.
Later, she told of her nightly torment
how she’d walk the floor
going in circles--
her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
She’d pace round and round and round
until she finally fell down
then she’d just lie there--
feeling defeated.
But while holding to
the hardwood floor
she'd slowly recover
some sense of stability
and as the surge of sadness
naturally began to ebb
she’d sense a feeling of life
rising within--
a calm steady force that even
her leaden depression
couldn’t suppress
and in response, she’d stand again
and continue on.
Oddly enough
after each collapse
she felt a bit stronger.
Just as I have
on those occasions when
I’ve fallen down in a fatigue of grief
and remained down
until I sensed a calm force rising within.
Obviously, a common occurrence among humans:
I see many falling down in their dance
then witness a new strength
as they stand to their feet
and continue on.
33 1/3 New Fables & Myth: ebook
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© 2022, Michael R. Patton
Labels: community, courage, dance, depression, grief, new age, peace, poem, poetry, ritual, spirituality, spoken word, strength
