Disjointed, foreign and mournful
Coffee, dark and black, sun on my back
A male voice, bearded, dark brown eyes
Behind him dances a young girl, long dark hair, silken skirts
She spins and turns, eyes closed, shutting out the world
Incense drifts in dark blue plumes – smoky, fragrant, choking
The beat of a drum, strange rhythms, not for western feet
Rice rattles in the sacks in the bizarre
(The music changed abruptly, this track is much more upbeat)
And suddenly we are in Russia – cossacks dancing, threads of red and gold
A woman sings, her voice high and strident, the words harsh
Yet there is joy, a wedding party arrives, vodka spills as glasses are raised in toast
A donkey brays, the air is crisp and cold, the sky is blue
Celebrate, celebrate
And all around the world, weddings are consummated, wine is drunk, gifts are given
The human need to be pair bonded and to celebrate that bonding
Family, families, unite together
Celebrate, celebrate
(written while listening to music on Afghan Radio on iTunes)
