UN Peut

What did I bring to the dance?

Heartache and silliness; there are always two in the sacred circle. One who accepts what grandmother has spoken; and then the grandmother is silent. Another who resists and causes distraction in others - refusing to hear her words.

The balanced spirit, at this point, captures both sides of the liberation of oppressed souls. All other things rest outside of individual control. I'm thinking all the time. I'm fussing about, making do, collecting, parsing, resigning, moving, tackling brooding... acceptance of the tortured, the blamed creating that harmonious rhythm where a shadow falls and sinks into death. The unknown portion of now-necessary and gloomy, but the results of my wombs excavation where month to month death travels. In the beginning - in the now a presence gathers from where my dreams before resonant lurid dreams, not for the inexperienced. Going past these for fellowship in recognizing patience and collection plates. Voices in song are believers. Weepy little hearts bolstered.  My organs release more traumas.

The pages return to some new format. Going towards ballast into generosity. The delineation of four parts. Head, heart, feet, and hands. Each considered a weapon of the dancer. Controlled or with a freedom.

An execution. The mercy and commitment to peaceful nonviolence of the believers who carry guns. The commitment and devotion of my head, heart and, hands and feet.

A weapon without a warrior. Take this moment in the death of yesterdays for a greater peaceful possibility.