SACRED DANCE
The Bushmen of the Kalahari
dance all night in a circle
dance a calf-deep trench in the sand
In a circle around the circle
sit those in need of a healing
And because it is a sacred dance
any dancer at any time may step
out of the dance and do the healing
and then return to the dance again
Knowing without knowing
that everyone is a healer sometimes
everyone needs a healing sometimes
You just keep dancing
ROBIN
Robin is a pelican
she flies with perfect grace
swims with perfect grace
moves with perfect grace
Pelicans swim with Robin as a sister
pelicans are very old and wise
they know a pelican
can be a beautiful woman
Humans are not so wise
but there is a way to know
if a beautiful woman is a pelican
Robin is a pelican
when she opens to feed you
you can taste her heart
A HAIKU FOR ROBIN
A pearl dropped in water
her body sends ripples
through air
I AM A PELICAN
I have flown over the dinosaurs dying
through the ash of the meteors crashing
I have swam in the ice floes melting
I have eaten the first fish walking
I have felt the poles a shifting
in the magnets in my head
I have seen the white man and the red
I have seen the old wives dead
I have felt the pull of the settlers need
and tasted the poisons of their greed
I have heard the earth a groaning
I have felt the earth in pain
I have seen the Rainbow Warriors
dance the vision back again
And I fly and swim and wait
and pray they’re not too late
THE PELICAN PROJECT
In July 2000 New Dance Horizons in Regina
Saskatchewan put together a presentation for
“Dance and the Child International”
It consisted of dance, song and poetry
performed by about thirty young people
many from Canada’s “First Nations”
I had the privilege of coaching and guiding
them as they wrote their own poems
Following are some poems that I wrote
for samples of metaphor, and for the awe and
respect I felt for their talent and their courage
Also, I was totally star struck by the grace and
beauty of Robin, the director and dance
instructor who goes around quoting Neruda
and holds my disowned love of movement
so wrote poems for and about her as well
DANCING THE DREAMING
Aborigines on an Austin stage
Dancing the dreaming
But something’s wrong
They dance in stage lines not sacred circles
Men and women dancing together
Even I know that’s not how they did it
My Aussie friend points out that they have
no scars of initiation
Drug store cowboys
in five and dime dream time
The phoniness bothers me for quite a while
They are not really doing the sacred songs
They probably don’t even know the sacred songs
Of course if they did they wouldn’t be singing
them for us
On a Texas stage
in five and dime dream time
And yet there is something happening
below the surface
that starts to pull me in
The didgeree-do is made from a real tree
The circular breathing to blow it is there
strong and free
Something real is rising through it all
Something I don’t understand
Something they don’t even understand
If you listen real close you can hear it
below and through and beyond it all
Fifty thousand years of DNA singing
BULL DANCERS OF CRETE
Two thousand pounds of power
thunders toward one hundred of slim youth
No picadors to wound and slow
No red caped cowardice to step aside
They meet straight on
Bull head down, youth’s held high
Horns grasped, the head snaps up
in anger and surprise
They flip in beauty over a broad back
Converting and transforming
twenty to one ratio
power into
grace
TOMORROW
Somewhere
perhaps very near
The fairies are dancing tonight
If you put out a little food
they will mend your shoes
and tomorrow you can join them
ON THE WIRE
When you are dancing on the wire
not looking down, is the net.