Woodford Revisited (rev)

(Formerly - Festival Of The Butterflies, Woodford Revisited)

Before these images fade into legendary
dream-like places where the gatherings
of the long-haired and flower-decked
faithful hear the same dissertations, before
I see them as scarce adumbrations of forty
years passed and burned in a night and the
turning of a year, before I grow weary let
me say with awe – I was there.

My body’s liquids vibrated in the amplified
blast of bass notes growled through the
amphitheatre, my ears felt the power and
my eyes saw them, lost in themselves, jerking
in rhythms syncopated, flailing their hair, free-
form worshipping in stark and raw strobe-lit
rites, offering the rare induction of group fusion,
of dimensional mind in solid transition.

Broken and re-birthed in the neat hand rattle
of percussion that thrummed its demands,
seduced by voices that mumbled manic
messages or screamed adulation while the
band played and the land swayed beneath
their pliant feet. Yet in a crowded arena we
shared three minutes of candle-lit peace
in an eloquent unity, an unbroken silence.
© I.D. Carswell 2007