the dance

"except for the point
the still point
there would be no dance
and there is only the dance"

TS Eliot

six days
spent listening, at last
to the voices that do not mean
I am crazy

six days spent in stillness
at the center of alone
the noise turned down
so far down
till it merely whispers, suggests
but does not urge and does not shove

I still have eyes but they stay inside my head
ears but they do not strain for meaning
in the words that come to them--come
lightly, lovingly, no hidden intent

nurses bend close but do not touch
except with fingerprints light as angels'
their voices murmur when I ache, gloved hands
paw through vomit looking for pills I've lost
and must take again

sleep comes and brings no dreams
in this messy little nest
my fractured egg
my place of rebirth

six nights
spent listening, at last
to the center of myself
to the point, the still point
without which
there would not be this dance
this broken-legged jig, these tragic
comical skinned bones
this divine hell of
loving merely being

KB 3/5/2013


  1. what is that still point ?

    i think i feel you. your honesty, your writing, your sharing, so good.

    you make me feel though i'm so far away from you

    thank you

    1. the still point is when you stop running. it is the space between exhaling and inhaling. the pause between this heartbeat and the next--when you become the observer of what is happening in your neurons and synapses, in the places where thoughts are born. when you have lived for a moment in that still point, where time stops, then you know how precious it is to dance.


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