justwrite 15 november

at another concert a show a performance not just a song delivery device but a collision of color and sound this is what culture looks like here takes all year round to show off and to cough up the price of a free ticket is the stickiest way to play that off although I would have paid I would have stayed out later than I’d bargained for and I did and what’s more I bid up higher firing up my thoughts caught up in rhythmic clapping the kind that no one seems to mind starting even seconds after any sort of cue internal or from you up there on stage all the rage to leave the cage open and go hoping after inspiration in the drama theater named after some leader of cultural import and behind the statue of another of a similar sort square in the middle of the center depending upon reliance to be carried on and these are the songs we hear these are the songs that fear and pessimism can not stamp out and sometimes these are what the songs are about but also love and music and Cossacks Cossacks the cowboys of Ukrainian hearts departing from no steppe but stepping into the modern era with un-equaled style mild in no way but playing their own drums marching to the strums of an oldtime chord storing up and letting out energy in the air with swords and on the floor no words can tell these kicks from tricks sticking out with red billowing pants the legs begging to dance to bend to defend memory and here this is where the country is again standing straddled between the past and the farther past the present somehow vague and the future even murkier the jerkier timeline seems suited just fine to perpetual display but would make a more religious person pray for deliverance of these colors into future strength for we see these leaps these bounds kept surrounded by heavy velvet curtains and the uncertainty with which the moves from the past are wrapped cripples and topples the adoption of pride in what will be and an end to any dependency on purely historical characters just bring these leaders we will be heeders of their words and their unsung hair their jaunty care but their passion for freedom and the will to fill the sky with song