__________________________________________________________________________________________
11/1/16
10:00pm
I wanted to write about dancing.
I had a vivid dream last night about dancing. Detailed foot positioning in golden, bejeweled, ballroom heels. I knew exactly what I was doing. I must dance more, I suppose.
Instead, today I go for a jog. I do like to jog, but it is nothing like dancing. And when I feel myself tiring, I imagine dancing and get my second wind.
I wrote a poem about dancing some years back. I tried to find it. There was a line in it about collapsing in a downpour of my own sweat. That’s such a great feeling! I wanted to refresh myself on that poem.
Instead, I found this poem; written in my early twenties; about the rain. And I do dance in this poem. I remember these moments I was writing about, and actually, it IS a downpour, not only of sweat and rain…of joy.
****************
OOOOOH! I like the rain!
It is wet tree trunks to hide behind,
in search of gnomes,
old train tracks I can’t quite balance on,
rooftops,
wet hair slapping the back of my neck,
and clothes too heavy to keep wearing,
into warm fluffy pajamas and thick socks,
with a warm mug of something good,
and Mom’s hand on my hair,
face pushed against the screen window,
eyes wide with excitement,
seeing the rain,
hearing the rain,
running and screaming,
and crazy nighttime,
Oh, dangerous nighttime,
shaking tree branches so the drops thunder on my head,
bare feet in mud,
in puddles,
in sticky grass,
deep breaths.
It is a lullaby;
arms wrapped around myself,
a smile,
a hundred smiles,
sleeveless shirts and glistening shoulders,
drunk on a kiss I always wanted,
surrender,
power,
a second look,
tears,
hot breath,
holding hands with my sister,
uncontrollable laughter,
body aching in that good way,
love –
that push my arms behind my back and force kiss me because you have me, love,
warm nighttime,
with that sweet metallic smell
of grass and earth,
hair gel and sweat sliding down my face
because I’m dancing so hard my ribs will burst,
putting worms back in the dirt,
dirt under my fingernails
and always
Always a memory of childhood.
(I Like The Rain, written sometime roughly 10 years ago).
***************
I want to end with this quote about dancing by Albert Einstein, so I will:
*
“We dance for laughter, we dance for tears, we dance for madness, we dance for fears, we dance for hopes, we dance for screams, we are the dancers, we create the dreams.”
__________________________________________________________________________________________