The Ice Dance
Silent comes the night,
For those fortunate enough to witness
The Ice Dance.
cloaked in the robes of an ancient warrior
stepping silently across the twilight
in hazy moccasins well worn by time.
He waits quietly, the ancient warrior,
to dance upon the blue ice of the day now sleeping.
His patience spans the many days of the cold Winter,
and when the days promise of budded trees,
but nights again bring the cold of March,
he comes to once more dance with the ice.
It is a summons from the sky to the earth,
repeated from times when no human eyes
watched, and no human ears listened.
It is a summons from one to another
to cast away the remains of Winter's icy armor
and to once more allow itself
to mirror the movement of the night...
alive and serenely sensual with the desire
to become one with the water.
From the hazy horizon of
the hours when sleep called the earth,
spring forth spires of white light...
stark against the ancient one's dark robe.
The sky pulses in perfect
unison with the percussive sounds
of the frozen expanse beneath it...
the rhythmic sounds that accompany
the footsteps of the night's Aurora Borealis.
With each step of the warrior,
the ice responds with the sound
of the heartbeat of imprisoned water....
The moaning sounds of one yearning to be free,
but trapped....
A rhythm of primeval origin,
permeating, and soul awakening
amplified by the otherwise still night.
The ancient one dances upon the ice,
sure footed, and more fervent with each step.
The night is alive with the sound of the dance...
Alive with sky touching unmoving water...
An ancient rite,
one that will be performed again
on nights to follow until the warrior's
maiden is once more free to join him
with reflections of her approval on a warmer night.
the ritual practiced this night,
their mind and spirit awakens,
and becomes one with
Copyright 2000-2008
Janet Nix
