Dancerby *Nashoba-Hostina

Anthro / Traditional Media / Drawings

Sometimes, regardless of who you are, life gets you down. There are more unpleasantries in the world than could be named, and most of them seem to seek me out. But I don't let it get to me. Because I have something all of these things do, and will never have.

I have my dance.

My tent may be lopsided, the textiles tattered and stained from wear and weather, but no one sees them, not while I'm inside. The drummer's pounding show me the rhythm of earth's heartbeat, and it tells me where to place my feet. The ocarina's notes are like wind at my back, coaxing me into forward movement. And the tambourine's chiming flows over me, whispering in my ear the secrets as to when I should move my body and how.

The musicians may not dance like I do... but they are dancers of sound. The lifting and falling notes, the sway from pitch to pitch... it's all the same, yet completely different. I myself, do not speak the language of music as fluently as they do; I cannot dance in the air like they can. But, the ringing of my zills speaks back to them, and between all of us, we put on a show no one can look away from.

It's in those moments of oneness, completed by sound on the air, the ground under my feet, and those around me, that I know that everything will be fine.

Some day, I hope to learn how to dance. I wish this hadn't turned out so iffy, but it still got on paper what i needed to.