His body isn't young
Anymore...
Grey hairs cover his face and
Scalp like snow covers ground
He doesn't have a dancer's body
He doesn't have a dancer's grace
He's tall and probably weighs a
Little more than he should
Most would look and see...
A man
Plane and simple
Nothing delicate
Nothing sensitive
Just a regular bro with no
Special gift for dance
But he dances anyway...
When he dances
I feel his every move
Sculptured on disappointment
Seasoned with heartache
Punctuated by every mistake
He's a worn jacket turned inside out
Ready to be sewn lovingly with
Needle and thread and this
Melody floating on winds
Tilt your head
Bird song
Spread your wings
Bird song
Look on his face
Lines creased into concentration
Inner awareness awake and rising
His spirit drifting from heavy to light
His body gesticulating articulating
A spin a twirl a jump a hop
Hands going this way and that
Weaving a basket of truth
One cup Africa
Two pinches Alvin Ailey
Stirred together with a fistful of heart
In a pot over open fire
An elixir simmering...
Going round and round
Floating now in slow motion
Cards revealing the secrets of
Life and death and how they dance
Together through time, so...
Every wave of the palm. Every flick of the wrist
Every bend of the arm. Every twist of the hip
Every lift of the thigh. Every touch of soul through sole on
Mother Earth...
Becomes...
A moment to savor
A breath to breathe in air
A chance to remember scent of
Bananas yellow on the kitchen table
Simple pleasures like
Honey on tongue
In this present
Amidst these gifts
His intention is clear
To be here
Make this dance the best dance
Dance like this dance is the last dance
Every time
Every single rhyme
Expressed now let the rest
Just be