Her hips bloom like wild roses, as the silky layers of her skirt sway to sudden slaps of the flamenco guitar.

Her feet whisper orange blossom kisses to the mossy earth with each thump, thump thump,

Sending prayers down, down, down—

To the cold, muddy ground.

She shakes her tangled hair from side to side, as flecks of stardust break loose

And barrel towards the ripe harvest moon.

She weeps,

But she dances.

She keeps dancing—

She dances through pain

And love

And loss

And heart-shattering, soul-crushing fear.

She twirls through fire and leaps through the hot flames of despair,

She dances far past what’s possible.

She shimmies to the throbbing rhythm of her own broken heartbeat

And throws back her head in pure ecstatic ecstasy.

She keeps dancing—

She dances until she’s exhausted and sweaty, empty of fear, full of truth,

She dances until she stands alone—

Naked, save for her tears

Bathed in milky glow of starlight.

She exhales

And sends her pain to Pluto

To become something more beautiful.

She weeps,

But she dances.

She keeps dancing—

She is happy, she is sad, she is lost, she is found.

She wears the weight of the world as a serpentine crown.

She keeps dancing—

As the sun ripens into a brand-new day,

She finally sits down,

She surrenders to all that is.

In the cool breeze at dawn,

She lays her heart bare,

Offers the world her stripped soul,

And she never felt empty again.

She never felt lonely again.

She finally knew what it meant to be alive—

To serve something higher,

To serve all.

.

Relephant:

Our Hips hold the Secrets of the Breeze. 

 

Author: Sarah Harvey

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/Jody Frost