Month: March 2021

Palm Sunday Tango

Posted on by rita kowats

“Those who were seen dancing
Were thought to be insane by those
Who could not hear the music.” Nietsche

Palm Sunday Tango

Our cocked ears strain toward a not-so-distant future
To catch the first notes of an untamed Lindy Hop.

But now we dance a mournful marathon not of our making,
Dragging our weary bodies and souls behind us, waiting to hear
The last dreadful note.

We will dance with abandon
When the Lindy notes sound at last,
But in this time between we endure,
Faithful to the dance we hear now.

We learn the steps as we go,
Leaning against one another,
Hanging on, cheering on, crying with.
Tomorrow’s dance is for tomorrow.
Today we dance to the music we hear today-
Holy insanity.

c. Rita H Kowats 3/27/2021

*I am deeply moved by this post https://www.ritualwell.org/ritual/mourning-dancing

Endurance

Posted on by rita kowats

Soon we live again exuberant and relieved;
But now we do a strange Lindy Hop
In a marathon not of our making,
We drag our weary bodies and souls behind us
Waiting for the Big Band to play the last note,
Releasing us from our dis-ease.
We yearn to dance again with abandon;
But in the time between we endure,
Faithful to this dance here and now.
Learning the steps as we go
Leaning against one another,
Cheering on, crying with.
Tomorrow’s dance is for tomorrow.
Dance today.

c. Rita H Kowats 3/20/2021

The Caboose

Posted on by rita kowats

“… the lead bird isn’t an alpha bird, he explained, it’s just the one that assumes temporary wind duty, and when it gets tired, it flies to the back of the pack, where it may straggle while regaining strength. “If you’re the guy in front, you can only stay there so long,” he said. “Recovery may take awhile.” In the meantime, a new bird moves in.

“The Goose that flies at the back of the pack is just getting some rest”  by Mary Schmich

https://www.chicagotribune.com/news/ct-xpm-2012-11-09-ct-met-schmich-1109-20121109-story.html

 

The Caboose

(On seeing geese fly in “V” formation)

Ahh. It’s my turn.
Not that I regret flying in the front;
I’m tired.
There’s less to do now
More to be.
There’s less to say now
More to hear.

I relish the sacred energy of the “V”
That carries me now,
“wind duty” done.
Such is life and death
And life again.

c. Rita H Kowats 3/14/2021