I take my mind back
From this sky bright and tree flaggy morning
Dimly lit stage
Of Project Arts Centre’s Space Upstairs
Where bold and distinct, three streams of colour pour from above
And pool in a messy flag on the floor
A braided uniform hangs mid-air from a very thin string;
Turns slightly within a thick atmosphere of dust settling, light settling,
the balance of things restored in a momentary hush.
Silently, a dark corner peels away from the background;
becomes a dark door cut from cloth.
Figures enter and assemble.
There is a man; bright skinned, light-haired, tall, full-bodied, upright;
And there is a man’s voice; measured, weighted,
delivered into the space.
He introduces himself,
The words go in a ring around him;
‘Captain, Whistleblower, Military, Violence…’
There come to be four dancers onstage
In a cluster, looking like hens towards one another,
Sharply thrusting beaks and chests
With exquisite physical clarity
Time, flesh, gravity, light all deployed in sudden concerts of humanity.
The captain is hoisted up,
Carried and dressed by the dancers
The dancers skillfully execute roles
And the man is himself as himself.
Human life and human death
Bodies as co-operative and intimate as organs in the one corpse
Training and nature,
How we describe what we do when we suffer,
When we survive,
And what kinds of witnesses we are becoming.
Emma for DRAFF