by john clare
In the sacred adytum the dancers swirled
upon the inner sanctums of gilded floors,
lithe bodies of purist purity revealing little
nymphs bounding from the wooded weald.
In heavenly clerestories angelic hosts beheld as
to little Wonderful the dancers rose and fell,
stirring the golden dust upon all in a spell!
Mystery of the highest order given
to those enabled to see.
Or was it...
In stain glass sanctuaries where once
the Saint's prayed
the dancing girls swirled as the choir
dangerously swayed?
They said it was a moving rendition
(of what some were not certain)
Others thought they saw ole Miss Gulch
flitting among the swirling,
Broom in tow busting the living dust,
spreading it everywhere,
exclaiming, Be gone you swirling girls!
This is a place of prayer!
And so we marvel at this mystery,
Gold and dust flying side by side,
Half blinding, half barely able to see,
Most living, most long ago settled.
Or was it...
In the mystery that descended in the
golden cup,
The arousal of movement stirring a
long slumbering spirit,
choking upon chalices of rust and
moldy sacramental wafers unfit
for the gathering of angels
lifting the Munchkins heavy heads,
stuffing some with mouthfuls of
golden dust.
Or was it...
Others saying it tasted as
manna on shewbread?
Mystery among us!
Weald. wooded or uncultivated country.
Adytum. (in an ancient temple) a sacred interior shrine accessible only to the priests. not to be entered.
Clerestory. an architectural term that historically denoted an upper level of a Roman basilica or of the nave of a Romanesque or Gothic church, the walls of which rise above the roof lines of the lower aisles and are pierced with windows.
This was my reaction upon hearing a Cantada was including dance in their program. How, in days past, this would have bordered upon Hersey of the highest order. It is my search in freeing us from the clutches of calling uncłean what God has cleansed. We as Protestants are most guilty in our suspicion of anything that is not written in Acts.
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