moon beams narrow overhead
bodies girate purple longing
thickens the air

they want for something
spin round and round
whirling dervishes

in search of rhythm they believe
freedom belongs to them- now  
they are confined, stiffened

one of them remembers 
a time when their hate
stood a chance but

love has hidden itself
from them again as it rests
just beneath the beat

rhythmless- another of  them
remembers something akin
to softness but none can escape

the notion they may have been
the ones who killed that
too

the music fades they try
to awaken- eyes sewn shut
one even attempts to speak

but he is too enraptured
in his own presence charmed
by the smell of his own sweat

he doesn’t know all of their
mouths have been sealed
none realize the door

is locked from the inside
hubris does not allow  
time for reflection 

there is no more air
for any of us -not just some
of us- the air was stolen

just like the land
just like the food
just like the people

they have celebrated 
theives and they 
don’t even know 

the game was rigged 
against them too
a time for celebration

victory in a war waged
against themselves
they clung too tightly

to tales of supremacy
and now their souls
pay the price even

as they believe themselves
alive- but their rhythm is off
arms glitch in distortion

backs do not bend 
they can no longer think
and there is no more time

they attended a party
thrown by a Eshu
they expected to dance

atop of the dead but the

moon beams have left
them- gone is the Light

and just as they secretly
feared each one is alone
moaning in despair

they realize where they are
and now live among the dead 
trapped- just beneath life

now buried with all the ghosts
they justified sending 
before them