She said,
“I’m upset you didn’t dance with me”,
my englishness held me back.
Reserved,
too proud to dance.
I stood there on the side lines 
watching the people have 
fun,
fighting an urge,
embarrassed to break the rigid
paper mache mask I am still
wearing.

It is made of yesterday’s headlines.

I remember hearing the local band,
Humans together bringing the world
something profound with their music.
I was with my family,
yet again I felt it,
my soul being illuminated,
my eyes begin to water
as I pay witness
to the joy of people feeling free.
It’s part of the culture,
accepting the bodies imperfections
in how it sways and flings 
to the pulsating sounds of
the music.

“I’m upset you didn’t dance with me”
I acknowledged this 
with a great sadness.
She wouldn’t have known.
We connected through a similar
background,
certain values ingrained in us
through growing up.
She moved her hips more freely,
was this because she was a
girl?
a poor excuse.
she’d been less exposed to the
rigid culture that held so many 
of the brits back.

“keep calm and carry on”
“sit tight, it’ll be over soon”
“stiffen that upper lip”
How can I enjoy the freedom 
of salsa or the soul in
cumbia 
when I have 
constricted my limbs of movement 
or my heart of expression?

Flags are free to move 
however they so choose.
The wind encourages them every day,
but the long, white pole they hang off
reminds them of the duties they 
must 
represent.

The union jack dances the same
way the peruvian flag dances
in the wind.
I choose to be formless,
free to move
but not forgetful of what,
or who, 
I am.