Her voice twisted and tangled as it wove
a lyric story that took place long ago.
Drums pound the way back through time, where we dove
into deep pools of magic for the show.
A slow telling of mysteries by fire
light where each gesture brought revelation.
Shadows gather and listen without tire.
Perspiration mixed with inspiration
leads the dance accompanied by hawk’s cry
and we, travelers from far flung future sit,
listen to a time gone by as we scry.
With our ancestors we’re one in spirit.
But the dance of ages goes on wearing
faces that change; there’s truth in the telling.
~ ~ ~
I was belly dancing while I wrote this. (Trying to anyway, I’m not very good at it yet hence the whole dancing about in my apartment where there is no audience.) Yeah I do that–dance and write, walk and write, etc. I know I’m weird.🙂
Courtesy of Prompt Stomp‘s topic for the week, free association writing. You asked for it.