mazaher (song blooming in orange water)
I found a dance— free, pure grace unfolding between beings
of different species, gods sharing joy of movement —in your words
Song blooming in orange water (let me share your dance)
Between one human and three horses— you, your witch of a Dutch mare,
and your old ones, Hanoverian gelding, Bavarian mare —napping in the April sun
I. Bavarian Waltz
Well bred and well trained, well kept and well taught
To hold her head up and keep her lines straight
She learned how to walk and to canter in time
Remained with one owner who treated her, well,
But impressed the idea that she had no mind
Of her own.
No right to her self.
She came into your care and expected the same
Rhythm and dancing to metered demands
Once she realized you actually listened
Without punishment for speaking
The complaints she put forward were things you
Weren’t doing. The things done before that she
Had grown used to. Captivity, orders,
The waltz of her mind. Music so strictly
Structured that freedom of silence
She’s happy, she’s at peace
Left alone with her gelding with space to roam
Food, water, shelter, all amply provided
But what of the void she can’t fill on her own?
Never acknowledged, only
You’ve managed to get most of the bad stuff out
But so well trained and a lifetime of waltzing
Her inner life shaped by the owner’s require-
There’s no other dance that she wants to desire.
II. Pas de Deux
Ballerinas starve themselves He was severely misused and left to starve
They work their bodies to the limit Then rescued and now he’s as well as his age allows
It’s terrifying what they do to be He was disgusted with humans when you met him
It seems insane. Terrifying. He wouldn’t talk to you. Didn’t trust.
Skin taut against muscle When you gave him proof that you were willing
Muscle stretched on bone Not only to listen, try to understand, provide and care, but
Why do it? The torture. He visibly began to feel like himself again,
Because they live to dance. Because he likes to talk to humans, as a peer and free being
Live for the freedom of He never lost his dignity because he never
Now, despite being 750 kg/18 hands
And quite wobbly because of his leg and back problems,
He’s a graceful partner with everyone in every situation
Dancing his own ballet.
III. Dutch Modern
dark / dark / ... dark
thrust out kick out
out / dark / out
dark / dark / ... dark
all that’s left
dance of killing
how / can / will
dark / dark / ... time
wild her own
kill / dark / dance
dark / time / ... light
to recover trust
her life and arabesque
croupade / kick / free
dark / light / dance
after seven years
she helps a ghost
troubled, find his way
self / free / witch
1. Eulogy to the witch,
She had a dark side, as all beings do.
When we met, her dark side was all that was left.
She knew she could kill,
She knew how to do it,
And she was ready to.
(they call such animals monsters, rabid)
After three years she began to trust me
After five she was happy to be alive
(how can someone take away the love of life from anyone?
but something must have survived, if)
After seven she helped a troubled, confused ghost
Find his way.
Her dark side was still there, but
The light had grown back too.
I miss her.