Freed

 

 

When I dance my spirit releases
freed
from the chassis that is my flesh.

she delivers onto the surface of my skin                       
life.

Sweat glistens with site and smell.
Sharp,
shining to tell the world she is here.

The electricity rises from my toes
a wave,
a shudder, swirling like tongue in mouth.

Bursting through to the ends of my hair
my fingers possessed
with shape of languages lost.

 

 

 

 

Image courtesy of edisposti.wordpress.com
The Whirling Dervishes of West London