TO DANCERS FROM WINTER

 

...humankind has afforded itself the right to create a world that is superimposed on the visible one and to make visible a world that is ordinarily invisible. --Jean Cocteau, The Art of Cinema

January 3rd, 2011 -- POST:

Don't know what 2011 will bring for MAE. Possibilities range from new birthings to Falling Away & Rebirth onto other creative roads for each of us. From the depths of this cold Winter day, I offer a poem for MAE and for all who dance...

The Winter of MAE
(to the Movement Artists' Ensemble)
by Gwyn Henry

Gwyn Henry, Yulia White, Pianta from Shadow Feet



 Quiet now our feet & deep
our dance-less nod
dreaming perhaps of movement
dreaming perhaps of floor,
thirsting for mirrored light                   
& yes quicksilver notes
that rise us through doorways
which only our bodies can explain

Yulia White, from The Camera

like leaves whose dances
have been felled
to waiting beds of snow
we curl, embryos,
with our lives sleeping
in our bellies,

tired, spent, content                             

to lie supine

upon pale days
& thick nights

Pianta, from Out of the Red

diva's we are,
with forgetfulness
of sweat & radiant musk
& graze of hand, ricochet of hips--
no longer accepting weight
not our own
nor trusting our bones
to other bones

Gwyn Henry, Yulia White, from It's Not in the Bag

each to her own
slumber
separate

Pianta, from Shadow Work

all the rest
absent for now,
sundered & scattered,
by this fallow time.

         --January 2011     
Escondido, California