Don’t Forget to Dance

“DO YOU hear voices?” he said. I was going to say something like, doesn’t everyone? Or, sure, but my inner-earmuffs are off today. Yesterday was tough. Then he said, “Write… about the voices you hear or the ones you used to; the voices which call or enthrall; the voices which yearn and those which burn.” I was tired, so I shook my head. But… somewhere, between my heart and the places where the dead we love live on, my little brother spoke. And I wrote…

“Don’t Forget to Dance”

his heart speaks loudest
when the crocus sleeps in ice.
don’t forget to dance
with me… for me, brujita
my heart will sing through your feet

the wee notes…
– As the anniversary of my little brother’s death approaches, the voice of his memory in my heart gets louder and louder and louder…
Brujita means little witch, in Spanish.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Sunday Mini-Prompt with Brendan: Voices) and to Poets United (Poetry Pantry, 337).

“Dance of Joy”

67 thoughts on “Don’t Forget to Dance

  1. This is so beautiful Magaly, so fragrant with magic—”when the crocus sleeps on ice.” Something permanent in the rootstalk of our family dead. My younger brother died almost a decade ago and I still hear his voice when I read aloud, his laugh when I laugh. (We were twins separated by 7 years of births.) My mentor from the other side.

  2. This is so sad, but gives the reader cause to smile. Some voices will not be silenced and how wonderful when their messages contain joy.

  3. Those whom we’ve lost often speak clearest in the silence of heir absence–this is both charming in its simplicity, and profoundly refreshing in the water it draws for us from that deeper well. It’s a great mistake to forget to dance, to sing, to forget that joy is as much ours as pain and trouble. Thanks for reminding us, dear Magaly.

  4. I love that your little brother still speak to you and that you listen, Magaly, and that he calls you brujita. “Don’t Forget to Dance” is a good message and I love the lines:
    ‘his heart speaks loudest
    when the crocus sleeps in ice’.

  5. The love that you hold for your brother shines so brightly. I like that he speaks to you with love and laughter. I love that you share all of that with us. This piece touches so deep.

  6. It’s fascinating the ways that people affect each other. I know the things about me that were left there by people who aren’t around anymore.

    Sometimes I wonder how I’ve affacted others. I hope people I don’t talk to anymore think or do SOMETHING a little differently because of me.

    • One of the things I love most about blogging is that it allows us to reach out and–in a ways–touch people all over the world. And so many of those people are good and giving. And we get to keep a bit of that goodness, and share our own.

  7. The winter voice, still the rivallry of name calling. So precious, Magaly, the sizter/brother relationship, to be remembered even through years him being gone.

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