Poem: She Dances

She Dances 

              From a dream, dedicated to Selene

Gossamer wrap,
   flows around
    smooth skin.
     A touch
      cleansing mud
       in her wake.
         The jambé sings
       under the rhythmic fall
     of your palms.
   Rests equate
  to a magnetic
 need to rub
the tight hide
sunwise   within
  its roped rim.
   Through lobe-leaf
    oak trees; tall,
     hanging above.
      The clouds slide away,
       the moon appears,
        greets the fire.
         Light mingle light.
          Bare feet trace
         an instinctual path
        in the sandy bowl.
      Arms snake,
    calling the bonfire
  to rise, intrinsic unity.
Your arms energized,
   endeavor attunement.
     Her movements feed into-
                        -from the beat
                                   like the tide.
                            Cicada
                           gripping
                        nearby branches
                      crescendo
                   to counterpoint. 
              Points her toe
           to the ground,
         rocks to her heel.
                           Swing.
                            Small silver coins
                        adorn
                     moss-covered breasts
                  waving ocean hips,
                flash in the firelight.
              Metal meeting metal
            tickles your ears.
         She teaches the art
       of silent calling.
     Intuitive tending.
   You surrender
to listen.
  The cadence
     closes your eyes.
      She sways to you,
         a wave meeting the shore.
                                    Her fingers
                                 bend to open
                               your eyes.
                    She raises your   sight
                  with her arms
                as her hips trace
                                  an analemma,
                 close to your drum,
                   light reflects into her eyes.
                      Light mingles light.
                        On the fringes
                you sense the undertow,
                                                 then
                                       a flourish toward the center,
                                                              she dances.

One of my favorite poems. The inspiration came from a few places but mostly from one of my closest friends who belly-dances. Her man was on the drum. Their interaction, the energy of drummer and dancer was beautiful. Reminded me of the feeling of communion with divinity or deity. That trance where you feel swayed by an unseen force. Writing it was a similar experience. I want to capture it in oil paint because it seems to want me to, just haven’t gotten around to it. Thankfully, it is patiently waiting. There is plenty at play in this poem. What do you “see”?

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