A Freewriter's Poem
He Danced
He danced
and his barefeet
raised dust into dryness.
His feathers rasped.
His rattle hissed.
And the air gathered itself to constrict into cloud, but not rain.
He danced
and his feet ached
and on the rocklike plain his people ached.
The corn withered.
Lean winter months feared.
He danced,
and the dance did not bring rain.
His belief in the dance brought rain.
Full Disclosure
It took five minutes to write this as prose, and another ten to break it into stanzas and cut the superfluous words. It really wanted to be a poem. I think it has real potential, and I imagine I'll come back to it later for revision.
Dream weaver image from Pixabay, by Free-Photos
Creative Coin logo by derangedvisions
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STOPCheck out the last post from @hivebuzz:
Un poema con un toque de cultura ancestral, que nos recuerda que no era el baile, sino la fe en el, lo que hacía el milagro de la lluvia.
Thanks for reading my friend. Yes, it does allude to my American Indian roots. :)