Wednesday, March 9, 2011

Spiral Dance

[image from traveling-light.net]

As the drums
beat,
we circled
in and out,
before and behind
one another,
our eyes meeting
with joy.
We felt the pulse
of the drums
as the pulse
of Mother Earth
herself.
We were
powerful
as goddesses,
primal,
pure Womanhood,
alive
with the
wild woman spirit
that lived in
our hearts.

Last night, my sister and I attended the International Womens' Day event in our little town. It was okay. There were lots of laughs, live music, lots of wisecracking. But I was remembering womens' day in Tofino, those years I lived there.

We'd all come into the venue demurely, with our gray heads, and our covered plates of food. All ages would be there, from the smallest little girls, young women lush in the flowering of their womanhood and we seniors, so suddenly plucked from that stage of life and plunked into cronehood, so quickly, we could barely make the adjustment.

We'd share food and laughs, poems and stories. And then the drums would come out and we'd rock the place silly. We would spiral dance in circles, eyes flashing, joy on every face. Staff would stand about the edges of the room looking astonished at our transformation.

Those were glory days! The pounding of those drums still beats within my heart.

3 comments:

  1. Oh, it sounds glorious, Sherry! I would love to be part of something like that... can feel the drums pulsing through my heart just reading your description! Since such rousing events rarely burst forth in my suburban neighbourhood...I'd best get out there and find out where they are...LOL!

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  2. Sherry, your poem reminds me of the city where I used to live. Once a year, at the beginning of May, There would be a Women's Fair. It was set up in the rounded center of a small mall. The place would be packed with women, talking, walking arm in arm, there was music, and I would read poetry. But, then the drums would start and it was just as you describe, an incredible experience of women swaying to their own rhythms, smiling with joy and at the end of the drumming we would all raise our voices in ululation. It never failed to raise goose bumps across my skin. The power of women.

    Elizabeth

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  3. Ahh yesterday I wrote a poem about this women's spcial day... I am glad to find someone else did wrie about that special sisterhood...Brilliant, Sherry!
    :)

    Dulce

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