![]() |
|
![]() |
THE DANCER
![]() |
She was forty years oldShe'd been with a fellow for seven yearsThey had tickets to the Bob Dillon/Greatful Dead concertIn Eugene, a drive of five hundred milesFrom Idaho in the old truck.There'd be three in the front seat.A young blond girl was coming along, a friend...Not long before they were to departHe told her it was over...He confessed that he and the twenty year old blond girlHad secretly been loversAnd now they planned to make their life together. |
Her heart broke from the betrayalMostly she felt old -- and unpretty...But the worst was that they still had the three ticketsAnd they thought they should all still go to the concert.So there was the five hundred mile driveIn the front seatWith the young girl nestled in her lover's arms all the wayWhile she sat trying not to see themConcentrating on the passing scenery, embroidering...She was a wreck by the time they arrived.So she danced. |
![]() |
![]() |
That's how I first saw her.In the parking lot at a drum circle dancing alone.I had never in my life seen such a dancer.Her passion was so extraordinaryI stood like a stone watchingShe leaped.She flew like a bird.Her veils were wings.She whirled.Her slippered feet covered such wide spacesI could hardly believe what I was seeingAnd her face, her face, her faceWas so wrenching in it's poignancy, in it's incredible beautyThat my heart was in my throat. |
I had
my camera with me. I made my way over to the sideWhere she often returned as she dancedAnd I managed to ask her if she would permit meTo photograph her as she danced.She was surprised.But she said I could.Later we walked over to the little streamAnd I shot a few more.Then she went away.She forgot about the photosUntil the copies I sent her arrived.She wrote me a letter thanking me.She said the photographs had so restored her faith in herselfThat she had immediately gone out andTaken her boyfriend back from that young girl.Ten years have passed.They are still together. |
![]() |
Namaste
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |