in some god's ecstasy, began to sing
with no real melody. She started low,
the soft notes disconnected, wandering,
A young child's tuneless song. And yet we all
stood still and listened. She struggled to climb
to higher notes, a strange, hypnotic call.
The way her body swayed to keep the time,
Not metronomic--rather like a blade
of grass cuaght dancing in the gentle wind
before a storm. Then her crescendo, loud
and keening--and whatever spirit played
through her brought its weird music to an end,
while she stood mute, just smiling at the crowd.
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