Dancing in the Aftermath



Witnessed beneath the passing of storms

is an intermingling of forms

in a collective mourning.

It is like a mist that would slowly lift,

forming arms to embrace these transitory gifts.

Fear not for loss of visibility,

the mountain that is closed in by cloud

will be clear again before long.

As clear as the sound of the river,

as real as a chill’s shiver at higher elevation,

where the shrouded ridges of last light

backdrop the blank expectations

etched in the countryside.

In this expanse we trespass,

red eyed and sleepless.

Moonlight moves its restless

and illuminated stream

along the ground like silvery fingers,

gesticulating palm shadows

prowling like iguanas through the brush,

all is darkened and mysterious

when witnessed in the torch light upon leaves,

from our circles of heat,

dancing until morning to retreat

somewhere distant.

We keep the loss a continent away

and though never far from us,

some will stray,

while the hours drift

into thinking of them less,

drinking from pools that appear bottomless,

 the moon would still hover

to illuminate the cracks

of the future’s chewed through mask.

How it seeks to cover with forgetful revelry

all that distinguishes one night from another,

another night without a husband, a son or a brother.


From beyond the wind joins us

in dancing through the fallen leaves

and through trees made to bend over

lost loved ones as if to weep

and we leave our own notes

soaked with rain,

words of empathy,

for no mother

should feel the kind of pain

that comes from losing a son.

When he was gone,

the moon held everyone,

bound by the light

that sees the sea to its end,

to horizons perched

and appearing to teeter

over the horror

that we sometimes sail too close to

and this very wind that we hold fast to

pushes us through

a perilously slow process

of gathering our breath,

until strong enough to reverse the tide,

to release those who died,

blowing that cold wind

back into darkness again.


6 thoughts on “Dancing in the Aftermath

  1. Wonderful and atmospheric as always!

  2. domtakis says:

    Thank you! Glad the atmosphere seeped through.

  3. nicktakis2012 says:

    Thinking of Tim with this one… The pain of loss … Also letting go of the pain.. Contrasting the jungle like atmosphere of the island and its mysteries.. The mystery of life and death.. Thanks, Dom

    Date: Sat, 10 Aug 2013 21:08:41 +0000 To: nicktakis@hotmail.com

    • domtakis says:

      This was directly inspired by the Colombia trip in the aftermath of Tim’s death. How we were dancing in the torch light of Koralia and feeling his absence.

  4. Uncle Pete says:

    I remember the carriage procession to Joes party in Cartegena and suddenly being aware that Tim was not with us and not sitting next to Deborah. But there we were on our way to a birthday party. Strange moment of both sadness and joy.

    • domtakis says:

      I remember a few moments like that Pete. In some ways it defined the trip. Whenever I saw Deborah I thought of him so in some way he was with us down there.

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