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Show house/ Zj,^9 I tried to see us through Brian's eyes. It must be a jolt ,an outsider. We are not really part of the twentieth century, )r we have been translated through milleniums and psychic oceans ) this virgin space and time. All of us together make something rom the Old Testament come to life again - a song to Elohim. he ancient choreography is engraved on the cells of my body and ictates the movement of my soul. I know that the dance cannot e done in apartment buildings or on asphalt parking lots. It ,s a ritual to be completed around bonfires, a ceremony which seals us one to another in an eternal family, figures flickering joy as they embrace, spinning about the firelight, silhouetted tw. anguish against the night. We dance an interior rite, revealed a message A during rites of passage such as at marriages and funerals and on other days of thanksgiving. The ritualizing becomes a review of the past against which all our futures are played, the invokation of a moment of truth. The fire is with his pitchfork, the Lord's. I had a sudden picture of my father^piercing leaves, CAja^v.S "••*-; Hr?-£ fir4x t>wiM "4 **• k*a*!r4.. QQ returning them to the fire. - _~ -;:'-- -~~~-rrmrr. Was heAGod or of the U)di -fa**- no ex^er-for ? Devil? Was he n e i t h e r ? A And what about Brian? Did he know could all these things? How/\ he p o s s i b l y ignore them? "Why J e a n n i e ! I h a v e n ' t seen you f o r over a year!" t r i l l ed Aunt Elsa k i s s i n g me resoundingly on t h e mouth. She w i l l love me;i=fr- i 1.,,-h ]-| i hi ]\fTl fin-p will love everyone even if it means sacrificing her own peace of mind. I remember times when it nearly has. I suspect that she was one of those surprises that has dedicated my mother to the predictable. I introduced her to Brian and she kissed him, too. Then e flitted away, crying, "The sweet potatoes!" |