Suð Í Eyrum

I can hear it.

I feel it.

Like an army of raindrops making their way down a mountain.

Like a thousand rustling leaves.

A single heartbeat.


It is faint.

And there are days when I believe it has died.

But I can hear it.

And there are days my body shakes with it.

It has taken up residence in my chest, coursing to my fingertips, hovering behind my ears.

There are moments when I catch a fleeting glimpse of it.


It is as if...

for one brief moment...

all the world moves in sync.

As if we hear the same rhythm.

And our muscles respond.

And we move.

Together.


It is a brief moment.

But it is what feeds hope.


Then the world returns to its chaos.

A song that seems to have lost its cadence.


But I heard it.

And I have felt it.


I live and work for the moment when we move together again.

As one body.


A drum beat...

bare feet hitting the floor...

dust being shaken loose...

ice cracking...

the world will quake.


Some of us have found our rhythm...

I can only describe it has a "sliding into place".

Like a toddler with a puzzle.

We push and move and turn until the piece finds its spot.


Where we belong.

Where we fit.


The body sways.

Gracefully.

Passionately.

Aggressively.

We move.

Extending our arms, lifting our legs.

We spin in circles with our faces lifted to the heavens.


There is a rhythm.

I hear it.

I feel it.

It is carried to me on the wind.

It rises from the core.


It is elusive.


But it is intrinsic.


It is anticipatory in nature.


It grows.


And weakens.


Swelling.


Requiring participation.


And with a great roar -

A thunderous boom -

We will clap our hands.


The world will move as one body.

In rhythm with one song.


There are days when I feel it.

Days when I hear it.