i walked the shores of the mediterranean on a peaceful august eve. it had been a long week. i had a byzantine style bug after drinking something funny. i had walked the streets of adana alone shocked by the number of women and children begging. in mersin, an albino turkish woman and her two children dry and parched, begged me for food. for drink. for life. they will forever be etched in my memory like a tattooed soliloquy of the truest woe. the toothless man and the woman with one leg also stretched their souls out for filling. frail planet. frail love. frail compassion. failed mercy.
i carried the weight of the world as i pensively stepped forward in contemplat
ive wonder. i stepped forward past the pounding tide and the castle of ladies. i moved unaware of what was in front of me, unaware where i was going. and then an image stole my gaze, caused my chest to stop heaving, stilled every thought, every worry, and sighing ceased. she danced one way and he danced the other. their movements fluid and profuse. graceful. gentle turkish folk music guided their plights as they traveled away from each other. and then for a brief moment around this circle of independent tarrying, they would move together. just for a moment though. and when they would move together, the dance became more brilliant, more captivating, more. after several rotations, the music stopped. the man, the woman together in an understood embrace, a sigh-filled pause. when the music began again, this time they moved together. he led forward. she followed. and their movements were in unison. it was the most beautiful dance my eyes have ever witnessed. and i was stunned by the quiet elegance.has the arabesque ballad begun?
1 comment:
Ah! Let us pray the answer comes, "Yes. Time."
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