DANCING A SPELL
Even before we begin, the sound of wind
From the old temple of Ulun Danu quivers
On the tips of our fingers and in our toes.
The dancer, Ni K’tut Reneng, knows it takes
Ten sacred years to learn one gesture
Of the wind’s caress on the skin of water.
Tonight, in the shadows of our dance,
I tell my soul t grow quiet,
Become lake, reflect unbroken moon.
On the deepest part of the lake,
A solitary fisher paddles his oars.
At the shore, a woman in red sarong
Sings: their longing walks on water.
At this watershed of words
Silence is our breath and base for music.
When the dark tones of your voice
Lay the gravel, my song will grow limbs,
Weave the oldest story with nimble feet,
Without letting the listening ones know
We know the spellbinding name
Of the one we worship.