The Dream Dance
 

Asleep in the  Wood
 

The  Search

short bio
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

The Dream Dance

The drums keep on pulsing, beating
the voices calling, singing
people dancing, moving
around the fire that is burning, leaping.

Clouds converge, rolling, thunder
eyes look up, staring, seeking
while drums keep pulsing, beating
and the voices, calling, singing.

The sky fills up with lightening, power
the Spirits voices speaking, teaching
while the people keep on dancing, moving
around the fire that is burning, leaping.

 
I pass a muskfragrant wood
from which laughter is flung my  way.
And one day I stepped inside 
through velvet Hemlock trees.
I found the bees bewildered 
dizzy from wind and sun         and
stones of reddish marble
polished to mirror stars
and while songs arose from flowers
golden fawns pirouette.

I make myself  immoveable,
and love what I can&'t comprehend, 
and I lay myself in the sword fern 
and shouted out the question 
of whether I may stay 
then a shadow bedimmed the moonshine, 
and laughter was flung my  way.

 
When  the mountain was blood red
with  dawn
I made an altar of smooth stones 
then  kneeled and called your name.

I  heard your call.

When  the river boiled with white foam 
between sacred rocks, I stood waist deep
and  cried out for you.

I heard you call my name.

On the  plains where our ancestors lay
in the grasp of holy boughs
I cast  stones upon the ground 
and looked for your there.

I was  there.

At dawn you were like the morning mist:
At once visible, and not.
As distant as the dimmest dream.
Is that your voice in the morning winds?

Yes.

I have  been bowed to the earth
by thundering storms, 
but your presence is the eye of calm
when life rages around  me.