The Muruku Murmurations

In West Coast Swing, connection is one of the key concepts of making or breaking the dance. We tend to lose it when we rush and try our best to find it when our space is running out. Connection. A word so easily defined and understood but difficult to explain. A bond of two separate entities joined at a point that creates a bridge for information to be transferred. A beginning for new developments and possibilities that leads to endless amounts of potential because one foundation is built upon another. A pathway for energy to flow, for transformation to occur between different forms, where modifications and implementations can transpire because there is a medium for it to exist. A channel for conversation to interchange between individuals, cultures, generations and worlds, links in ways best left to the imagination, beyond thoughts, chance and limitations, stretching through multiple facets of humanity. A world that is not quiet, where one person is not the only per

It's a rare moment when something clicks and a very honest raw connection is made. It is something that I treasure very deeply and it becomes very difficult to let go. It's been a month since Asia West Coast Swing Open, all the thrills, lessons, skills and emotions. More dance inspired poetry in the making. I heard your name from across the room Uttered by experienced women of the trade I saw your silhouette glide across the lacquered wood floor And watched you move your slender body To the rhythm of a top 40's pop song playing in the background We were amazed by your skill, Your effortless ability to create gorgeous flow of emotion, drawing in the crowd with the rhythm And loving the moment as it went You came alive as you brought light towards your performance Your eyes twinkle like the stars in the velvet deep blue night sky. Your face looked my way As I spoke of silly things You saw me shy away from intimidating spins As I thought that it was all

This is one of those nights when insomnia is my only company. Yet another cold, cold night, Dripping, leaking tap water Dampening the stale air Absence of proper banter Windows sneaking in pale street lights Freckles of dust dancing without a care. My eyes compressed so tightly My chest tightens like a boa constrictor's grip While my world sleeps soundly My mind tossing and turning Madly as my body remains silent Every skeletal muscle tense The disconnect between my body and mind makes no sense My disrupted soul begets worry Flight of thought racing in circuit My judgement crumbles like biscuits No warmth from my covers, Soaked in regret from my past lovers Wandering lost in list of lust Endless winding matters Wondering if I could have turned out better Instead of aching under layers of rust. Wringing of my fingers Trembling in my lips Tapping of my finger tips My joints crackling like crisp in the fire Chilled by the dawn's cool air And slow

We were given an assignment in class to write 8 stanzas with 6 lines each in 40 minutes, we had to push ourselves to avoid cliches and our favourite 'go-to' words. One of my favourites thanks to Mama Lia, #evilauntylia ideas are awesome! Theme: The power of self-belief. Happy Labour Day, may the fruit of your labour be worthwhile. Defining and knowing, What is  I -dentity? The entities of your being What makes your reality? Words that come out spewing from the depths of spirit, soul and body. The apothecary off mind street where the 'I am' and 'is to BE ' begins, travels and meets, In the darkness where there is no light to see There is still a sense, pulse and heartbeat that brews in alchemy. Mixture of emotions, Tincture of memories, Shelved trinkets in small portions Wind chimes singing melodies to accompany the mix of concoctions Interactions that LIVE through centuries. The alchemist must create, Select c

The one thing I value most about my work is the lives of my patients. Nothing pains me more than when I see someone's life disappear in a blink of an eye and the family realising the indefinite loss of their loved ones. Rangka tingkap bergetar-getar dengan Gelombang-gelombang Suara orang ramai Berkumpul-kumpul Bertanya-tanya Bila masanya akan sampai. Nyanyian irama masa silam Lampu diatasnya semakin menggelap Lantai dibawahnya semakin sejuk. Sakit tenat dari senja sampai subur Bukan sekadar kurang selesa. Mungkin hayat yang sudah tiba masa Salin baju sendiri tidaknya mampu Putar belit kata-katanya Nyaris terjatuh tercekik selimut, Orang dikelilingnya gelisah menunggu. Tidurnya tidak nyenyak dan lena, Sejak mulanya penyakit ini. Terbangun setiap jam Mimpi-mimpinya yang semua ngeri. Jirannya menjerit-jerit, Nampak darahnya menitis dari dahi sampai kaki. Di depan muka memandang wanita Yang muda lagi umurnya, Muda lagi anak-anaknya, Nampak muka