Last Romani Dance

Fingers snapped
Bells rang
Hands clapped
Tambourines sang

Words rhymed
Palms read
Voices chimed
Stories said

The rhythm of hearts, minds, and dreams
met with the rhythm of lips, arms, and feet.

One--
Two--
Three--
One two three four and repeat.

The oldest man sat closest to the fire,
Smiling slightly at the youngest of the dancers.
His granddaughter,
His companion,
His friend.

The youngest of dancers twirled and leaped and spun,
Taking a step to nirvana in the rite.
Her first step,
Her last rite,
Her only dance.

One--
Two--
Three--
One two three four and repeat.

The dancers served to distract the clan,
Letting them ignore what fate has provided.
As long as it is night, they are free,
Free from the words of the Aryans.

So for one last night, they snapped their fingers,
Rang their bells,
Clapped their hands,
And Sang with their tambourines.

One--
Two--
Three--
One two three four and repeat.

After that night
The old man could not smile
The young girl could not dance
Not in Auschwitz

Words stopped rhyming
Palms were no longer read
Voices were not chiming--

One--

Stories didn't need to be said

Two--

But the rhythm--

Three--

The rhythm of hearts, minds, and dreams
met with the rhythm of lips, arms, and feet.

One two three four--

It could still repeat.