Angels dancing

How many angels, they would debate,
can dance on the head of a pin?
As stated, it’s a foolish question.

Wise ones would respond: It depends.
Is the pin resting, still, on a table?
Or in a drawer nestled with other pins
and thimbles and sewing needles of various sizes,
bobbins and threads and scraps
about to become something beautiful?
Are you holding it in your fingers,
and it is trembling ever so slightly?
Is it holding the hem of your dress,
and it feels how you move
as you twirl about in the warm room?

The wise would respond:
it depends on what kind of dance.
Is it a jig, a country reel that needs a little space?
Is it a ballet that can require a whole stage for one dancer?
Is it a slow, romantic number,
the angels holding each other close,
feeling each other‘s bodies, hearing each other breathe,
hardly moving, gently swaying in one another’s love?

The wise one would respond:
only someone far, far from the pin could ask that question.
More to the point, they would ask,
why are you not dancing?

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
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