Becoming an Actual Firework

I saw the greatest thing the other day, and I have to talk about it. I was laying against thick diagonal stone that kept its heat from the ninety degrees earlier that day, watching the fourth of July fireworks BANG, POP above me. Fireworks contain still a morsel of magic left; it is similar to drinking hot chocolate in the bitterest of winter or developing red cheeks as people sing you “Happy Birthday”.

The CRACKLE breaks all the usual up, drowns out the monotonous, beautifies even the ugliest of scenery. So, I am laying there, thinking about life and all of it’s complexities, when I see something better than anything I decided to entertain my synapsis with.

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     A girl with natural hair and skin full on melanin crouches down on the ground. Then, snaking herself upwards she times her POW perfectly with the fireworks that firefly off each other. And as they do, she does. She moves her hands about it a way that makes no room for a passerby.

She pauses, waits for her cue. The golden shimmers arrive, and so does she. She sprinkles her fingers in the air, twirls three times only, to perfectly balance her partner.

She is synchronized, learning. The classic BOOM. A jump comes out of her; head thrown back, heart glued to the sky, legs stretched as far as she can get. Another follows, and so does she. Another. She booms. Another. She booms.

This carries on throughout. I positioned my view so that I could only see the fireworks in the way she did, her dancing frame shadowing out the gunpowder in the sky. When the show ended, she takes it in for a moment. She knows it is over, and now her parents’ eyes are on her. No one is distracted anymore, they could see her if she chooses to dance.

And so she chooses to dance.

BOOM, POW, CRACKLE! The firework show went on. Then, a laugh from her parents, meant in adoration, simmers her fire. She stills.

I watch her make a decision, a decision to keep going anyway. And she does.

****

    Witnessing this is one of my greatest treasures. What a beautiful soul, a determined way, an actual firework. In this time we live in, one of grossly corrupt political and corporate power that partner with ideas of fear and uniformity to keep us down, I see this firework dance with more meaning.

I see a girl who sees a phenomena no human would normally attempt to match with just their body, and does. I watch her be in awe of beauty, and BECOME it. I watch her take her form into consideration, realize her limitations, and retrain her perspective to make a new definition of what it means to be a firework.

We should all take a lesson from her performance. No thing, not one, is too loud, too bright, too colorful to become. A stop, a pause, a lull in greatness, can just make the continuance of such –  a decision, not an inevitable, codependent end. Finally, no eyes, not even millions, can stop your truth, your BOOM.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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