Friday, June 28, 2013

Dance Lessons

(It is a process: understanding life. We do it in family. In dreams.
In thought and writing.
Even dancing.)
Try to see beyond my blindness.
Say it's all good.
What eyes now blind me?
Oh listen! It's ticking.
Tapping. Clicking
So much to write
Caution to the wind.
Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
In gusts of hot air
and white-wood fuzz.

Nothing that words will fit.
Membership in the life club: Savants.
One word, idiot, comes to mind.
But I love me anyway.
In my impatience.

Fingers dance in broken steps.
Mind penetrates the dance floor
of plastic and glass.
Not good -- till sunset.
Oh magic.

But I can feel it now
like Mom's silent prayers,
so loud, nothing else sounds,
but the absence of Dad.
Payday. And The Outrigger.

He's home other nights.
Dinner. Chores. News in black and white.
All is good, not thinking about it.
So it is a dance of dreams.
Commencement and light.

If I made this, I made it with he
who was my brother.
Father, Mother.
Two step. Or square dance.
To penetrate the dance floor.

Or is it the ceiling? Translucent.
Light breeze. White curtain.
They are both there now.
A visit after sunset.
In prayer and The Outrigger.

The music we wrote
and learning to dance.
Not easy but sweet.
These lessons of love.
Still learning.

© 2013 Ardi Keim 6/28/13


  1. Please comment. I'd like to get a sense if it makes any sense to you.

  2. It makes sense to me Ardi and It has a nice feeling, but it is very different from my experience this lifetime. Bobbi

  3. Thanks, Bobbi. Our different life experiences are unique opportunities in the creative journey. Like the flora & fauna on a mountainside--we can cling, release or relate.