Safe Haven Sanctity

"Elusive as blood moonlight."

On the dance floor

we are all created 

equally impetuous,

eager to move,

caught up 

in the rhythm and the lights.

There is only one kind of down 

beat we seek

on the dance floor

free of beat downs.

Life is

Enough

on the dance floor.

The tradition

as old as war
as stark as battle.

The act serving
every function and phase
from anger and despair

to love and hope.
Anything floats
howling
on the sonic boundaries
amid audial tides
because the dancing is a truce among souls,
a guaranteed right of asylum
for a second to seek mindfulness
as apparent yet elusive
as blood moonlight.

Dancing
is a sacred temple
in the darkest night,
where we thumb our noses at death and blight,
if only for a few measures
meandering in the beat
hearing our heart
pound at the tips of our fingers
with right now in hand.

No matter how many terrorists toss the place,
shattering lives like bullets,
some things cannot be robbed
point blank.
We will rise to the tempo,
shimmy, sway, swing,
and pop-n-lock
no matter what the threat is cocked.

We have no better choice,
no safer haven
even under fire.

We will dance.
It is as imperative
to our existence
as having a pulse.