Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Solstice at Chavez and Chinatown

There are clearings in the grey --
Brilliant mountain gold --
Moments when I'm clear
Of definition,
When it seems like that flower
Surrendered to the fence
I can let the all of myself you hold
Freely pass
And see it's you, not me
I've kept inside.

But it darkens again, the grey,
And the audience turns
Back round at me
Waiting for something specific, authentic,
Though they don't understand the dance;
Being real is somehow ... entertaining.

It is black now on the stage
But the lights in the sky glisten
As I sense the power I have always had
To be wrong,
To make the world correct me.