We Have Come to be Danced


Not the pretty dance 
Not the pretty pretty, pick me, pick me dance 
But the claw our way back into the belly 
Of the sacred, sensual animal dance 
The unhinged, unplugged, cat is out of its box dance 
The holding the precious moment in the palms 
Of our hands and feet dance. 

Not the jiffy booby, shake your booty for him dance 
But the wring the sadness from our skin dance 
The blow the chip off our shoulder dance. 
The slap the apology from our posture dance. 

Not the monkey see, monkey do dance 
One two dance like you 
One two three, dance like me dance 
but the grave robber, tomb stalker 
Tearing scabs and scars open dance 
The rub the rhythm raw against our soul dance. 

Not the nice, invisible, self-conscious shuffle 
But the matted hair flying, voodoo mama 
Shaman shakin’ ancient bones dance 
The strip us from our casings, return our wings 
Sharpen our claws and tongues dance 
The shed dead cells and slip into 
The luminous skin of love dance. 

Not the hold our breath and wallow in the shallow end of the floor dance 
But the meeting of the trinity, the body breath and beat dance 
The shout hallelujah from the top of our thighs dance 
The mother may I? 
Yes you may take 10 giant leaps dance 
The olly olly oxen free free free dance 
The everyone can come to our heaven dance. 

Where the kingdom’s collide 
In the cathedral of flesh 
To burn back into the light 
To unravel, to play, to fly, to pray 
To root in skin sanctuary 
We have come to be danced 

WE HAVE COME. "

Cast All Your Votes for Dancing


I know the voice of depression
Still calls to you.

I know those habits that can ruin your life
Still send their invitations.

But you are with the Friend now
And look so much stronger.

You can stay that way
And even bloom!

Keep squeezing drops from the Sun
From your prayers and work and music
And from your companions' beautiful laughter.

Keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From the sacred hands and glance of your Beloved
And, my dear,
From the most insignificant movements
Of your own holy body.

Learn to recognize the counterfeit coins
That may buy you just a moment of pleasure,
But then drag you for days
Like a broken man
Behind a farting camel.

You are with the Friend now.
Learn what actions of yours delight Him,
What actions of yours bring freedom
And Love.

Whenever you say God's name, dear pilgrim,
My ears wish my head was missing
So they could finally kiss each other
And applaud all your nourishing wisdom!

O keep squeezing drops of the Sun
From your prayers and work and music
And from your campanions' beautiful laughter

And from the most insignificant movements
Of your own holy body.

Now, sweet one,
Be wise.
Cast all your votes for Dancing!

from I Heard God Laughing, Poems of Hope and Love, renderings of Hafiz by Daniel Ladinsky.  From the inside cover:  "Hafiz, whose given name was Shams-ud-din-Muhammad (c.1320-1389), is the most beloved poet of Persians.  He was born and lived in Shiraz, a beautiful garden city, where he became a famous spiritual teacher.  His Divan (collected poems) is a classic in the literature of Sufism and mystical verse.  The work of Hafiz became know to the West largely through the passion of Goethe.  His enthusiasm deeply affected Ralph Waldo Emerson, who then translated Hafiz in the nineteenth century."

While doing yoga in a palapa overlooking the ocean in Sayulita, less than a month ago, I had the honor and privilege of hearing this poem read to me by my yoga instructor.  It was a large group that morning and I was in a very delicate state of emotional unbalance.  I was questioning a lot of what was happening in my life, my relationships, and just feeling generally unsure, uncertain, and scared.  Upon hearing this poem I burst into tears and I found it difficult to stop or control my crying.  Something about this poem, in that moment, during those feelings and in that space hit me like a ton of bricks.  I felt both enlightened and heavy, at the same time.  I didn't care that a palapa full of strangers could see me visibly affected.  I just felt so grateful.  So grateful to have feelings, even though it felt like pain, and to know that I am on a spiraling path, being held by the Sacred Feminine, ever moving forward and back, in wholeness and yet seeking a great Whole.  Since that time I have wanted to share this poem with y'all.  I hope you find something in it that makes you feel brighter and full.  Something that gives you hope and food for thought, like it did for me.  Oceans of Love, Jennette

Aunt Leaf


Needing one, I invented her--
the great-great-aunt dark as hickory
called Shining-Leaf, or Drifting-Cloud
or The-Beauty-of-the-Night.

Dear aunt, I'd call into the leaves,
and she'd rise up, like an old log in a pool,
and whisper in a language only the two of us knew
the word that meant follow,

and we'd travel
cheerful as birds
out of the dusty town and into the trees
where she would change us both into something quicker--
two foxes with black feet,
two snakes green as ribbons,
two shimmering fish--
and all day we'd travel.

At day's end she'd leave me back at my door
with the rest of my family,
who were kind, but solid as wood
and rarely wandered.  While she,
old twist of feathers and birch bark,
would walk in circles wide as rain and then
float back

scattering the rags of twilight
on fluttering moth wings;

or she'd slouch from the barn like a gray opossum;

or she'd hang in the milky moonlight
burning like a medallion,

this bone dream,
this friend I had to have,
this old woman made of leaves.

from New and Selected Poems, Volume 1, by Mary Oliver, p. 196.  Thank you Sally, for sharing this poem with me 8 years ago.