IWNHM/IWNHO: Dance

I do not know these words,
they exist in my skin,
leaking out like I was
born to sing spite for
time; my feet do not know
their direction, but
drive into the dirt
we drive into the dirt,
we taking hands ’round
two fires, like roots
grown together, we
are one body, make the
noise of an old singular
One, we are the people
built of grass and fire,
animal and of bone, fullness,
danger, of snake song and air.
This place marked by our steps is holy; medicine, like water or love.

-From Two Fires a Weaving Body

Vision, 2012
I was dancing on one of those wonderful spring-loaded ballroom floors that gives you more height when you jump, like extra prayers or flight. I am sweating and breathless in the music. Rising and falling and my feet come down.

And time didn’t stop, but slowed to a crawl, music stretched out and was muted by my heartbeat. Like a screen removed, for a while I saw what was real, things as they really are. The other dancers, good, bad, weird, made up, dressed to be cool, drunk, sober, horny, dumb, pretty, sad- were all perfect as they were. We were not all one but many and that was right. It was dark and times weren’t good and it was right. The universe was balanced and everything was as it should be.