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May 8, 2019

Around the maze of tents
We slink 

My violin, myself and I


Within the still
We strain to decipher
A twist of tune
A glimpse of notes
An absent-minded pluck
A patter of hands
A smatter of voices

All remains 
Still and silent,
Heavy in sleep.


I take a breath
I take up my bow
Feel my soul pour smooth
From fingertips:
A vessel
A pathway
A magnet

A circle is forming
Guitar twang
Saxophone flutter
Ukelele ping
Harmonica rasp
Pot drum clatter
Claps and shrieks
And voices
All voices.

We mingle in darkness
Melodic chaotic harmony
Twirling circling dancing
I giggle 
As we dance
Souls in interplay
We are beings being
I giggle 
And dance an actual circle
Feet joining hands and voices

The moment is 
And one by twos
Slip into the abyss of night
They slip into the still
‘Til it’s just me and you,
Dear violin,
And the stars

I could play a haunting melody 
For the moon
I could
And it would last until sunrise


I bathe in the still 
A canvas of potential
Possibility endless
I bathe in the potential
Until a Ruru takes the opportunity
And crickets join in

And it's perfect
And it's beauty

And it’s sleeptime now,
I think.


At the beginning of last year my friend Chris and I went to WOMAD! It's a festival of world music and was quite inspiring. I find crowds quite anxiety provoking and it was a very crowded space - but when I could feel the music, it was marvelous. We camped there for two nights and each night we did a little scout around the tents, trying to find other musicians who might be open to jamming. We found none. On the final evening, right before we were to head home, we started our own jam - and out of all these little gaps between the tents musicians appeared and joined us and the music flowed. Serendipitous.
This poem featured in a zine the talented Essa May Ranapiri put together of contributions from NZ queer artists (I'm bisexual) for Zinefest 2018.



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