To the bare-chested women of the warrior dance
your fire burned away the hiding places of my fear.
Woman with arms like swords through the air
have sliced free my clinging inhibitions.
Alive and illuminated by movement
you’ve shone deep into the shadows of my soul.
Urged me, dared me, cheered me on
until I let all the roundness of me be free.
Uncovering my breasts I danced alone
to meet a part of me long lost.
Each jump, each spin, each reach
renewing me; showing me to my warrior homecoming.
©Giselle Di Paolo
I have short stubby toes at the ends of my broad flat feet.
I have thick ankles, solid calves and full thighs.
There is nothing dainty about these parts of me.
They are heavy and bind me to the ground.
I have the blood of farm women in me, I have their shape and their walk.
I have their mama earth’s secrets tucked away in my wide knees.
And then there is my arse.
Round and full like the moon, with hips built to make it move.
Hips that shake, that flick, that grind.
Hips that unlock ancient rhythms to make my whole body unwind.
To make my curved belly twirl.
Belly filled with a thousand ideas.
Soft, warm and inviting womb of mine.
Mine, all mine, my deep red nipples, my pale smooth breasts.
My small sandcastles atop my chest.
Chest alive with breath makes the place where my shoulders rest.
Shoulders that are free.
Shoulders that know how to jump for joy and raise my slender arms into the sky.
My tender hands glide so gracefully,
giving thanks for my body,
so perfectly pear.
If you want to know what Flowing feels like
take an old rubber tube to the top of a gentle sloping hill.
Find a meandering creek
feel the sun on your back as you climb aboard your boat
and kick off from the bank.
Drift, twirl, float and spiral along with the current.
When you reach the bottom of the hill let you feet soak deep into the muddy earth.
Then sprint back to the top to do it all over again in a completely different way.
Because no to dances home are quite the same
but eventually our feet always find the mud.
If you want to know Staccato apply a crisp white glove to each hand.
Attach a whistle to your lips
and march yourself to the middle of the ice to direct the skaters during peak hour.
Blow hard on your whistle at the ones who want to keep going around and around.
This is a contact sport nudge them with those hips, bang them into line.
Use your strength, be clear, make lines.
When your emotions on ice have stoped swirling around your mind
and you have ordered them into your body.
Work them hard from part to place
and don’t forget to keep blowing that whistle.
Cosy up to Chaos by shouting encore after a first kiss
and then diving into your lovers mouth with no thought for breath.
Until you are together under the oceans might force.
Until you’ve gone so far out that the water towers above you
and then plunges you deep below the surface.
Until you are under the waves and time begins to swirl and up becomes south.
Until salt water fills your head and all you can do is cling to your lover,
When the ocean spits you out and you’ve washed up onto the sand
Let Lyrical take your hand.
Let it take you to a magical place.
The place where laughter sneaks into the middle of your tears.
The place deep in children’s eyes that can show you life with no fears.
Go to that winning moment, go to that last bite, go to holding hands.
Go to singing along to the radio.
Go to where joy has been your shadow
where bliss has been your blessing
and dance the dance that knows you so.
And when at last the wave begins to sink back into your soul
Let stillness take control.
Stillness knows no words but only the sounds of
Om and Om and Om
you’ll find amongst the space.
These are the Rhythms I’m in love with.
They heal me, stir me, soothe me, taunt me, cheer me.
they carry me and cling to me,
they move me.
©Giselle Di Paolo
My love for you has a mind of its own
A flow of its own making
A flavor unique and pure
My love for you takes me to places I’d rather ignore
Places within where the eagle can soar
These places are not easy to traverse but
my love for you takes me there
I love each part of your journey trodden landscape
I love each ache and each ripple of remembering
I love your curves and your confusion
Your honesty and lack of illusion
“My body cannot lie to me”
and so I keep returning
My love for you and where you take me
has a mind of its own
Again and again I come back to you
each time a surprise when I arrive
Each time tinged with the pleasure and pain
of knowing this could be my last visit
Nothing in this place is a given
and everything is a mystery
Yet the mystery keeps calling me again and again
Back to remembering; I love you
©Giselle Di Paolo