When I Sing, Mountains Dance

by Irene Solà

Laughing was a good thing, ’twas a cushion, ’twas like eating a pear, like sticking your feet into a waterfall on a summer’s day. I ne’er would’ve stopped laughing for all the gold in the world, not for all the hurt in the world.

But I wanted a man who loved the earth and who loved ideas too. A man who knew all about trees and plants and animals.

When Domènec met me, he told me I was pretty like a doe, like a kitty, like a lioness. He led me out onto the dance floor and said, don’t bite. And when it was time to leave he recited poems in my ear. Poems that spoke of a girl who was me. That spoke of all the flowers and of jealousy. Poems that built an altar I climbed, playful, and happy and open like a flower.

My body is a good body. A body that learns quickly. A body that soon gets used to things and that knows how to find the right path.

Because we have been here always and will be here always. Because there is no beginning and no end. Because the stem of one is the stem of us all. The cap of one is the cap of us all. The spores of one are the spores of us all. The story of one is the story of us all.