Posted in:   From the Tale
Annie begins a rich, seductive beat on her drum.
I rock my hips, with my legs wide apart, letting the building energy of the song undulate through my bones and muscles. With dream-hooded eyes, I watch the music ripple through the group — the song’s rhythmic spell catches us all, calling us to weave our bodies as one expression of the liquid power moving through us. A kaleidoscope of enraptured faces, with mud-painted brows, pass me by; warm, moist flesh brushes up against warm, moist flesh, and I gather the scents of others on my body, like a lover with her beloveds.
As our heat and passion intensifies, so does Annie’s drumming, pounding out a tempo that moves our bodies faster and faster, with dancers egging on drummer, and drummer egging on dancers. My hips are no longer my own, nor my rushing blood. There is only the insistent voice of the drum, and my dancing out a power too big and too beautiful for my body to contain.