sighs...I am exhausted...this is a work in progress...




They say that to see my dance
was to experience an encounter
of fire and flame
but you people
never knew me -
es verdad, this is my truth.

What was once beguiling
became my pain, my burden
a little lie displayed
every evening
the fame and fortune
lovers and trinkets -
useless and baseless.

Each night
I danced my sorrow
I danced my quejío *
although once, a long time ago
I danced my joy
and my passions
but by the end
feigned fire and flame
were all you saw.

"What" you exclaim in confusion -
I ask, did you think the blanket of roses
adulation and cheering voices
screaming "jaleo"*
were guarantees of happiness?
This dance was a mere sliver of reality
the beautiful mantilla laced face
part of a painted masque
the red silk falda,* rubies and furs
nothing but cold crystals, dead weaves and icy metals
later cast off in a small cold, empty room
and when you, the dance cabales*
departed for your loving families
and warm Andalucian* homes
I was left alone
with nothing
but the fading notes of the baila - the dance
you never knew me...


Notes:
1. quejío  - lament
2. jaleo - Ale, ole. Possibly from the 12th century call "hala" or possibly from the Arabic: Allah!
3. falda - skirt
4. cabales -  Flamenco experts. These individuals fall into a category beyond aficionado and can distinguish the various forms, tempo, beat pattern, and variations on styles
5. Andalucia - birthplace of flamenco

art - http://www.lafactoriadelritmo.com/fact7/entrevis/jaleo2.jpg

STOP

My poetry is in motion,
Do not be captivated by my thoughts,
neither confine me with your analysis,
or imprison me in stasis,
I am more than words,
screaming, flashing, dancing,
across the page,
my scribbling only offers marginal insights
into me.
I flex, I change, I pirouette,
I will live and die;
in a blink of an eye,
my feelings and words
will be GONE.
So take what you want,
infer what you will,
My poetry is in motion.