Inspired by the writings of Nina Szarka

She’s as fluid as the flames she dances around,
A galaxy of bangles reflect their light like her eyes,
Ankle-length skirt and diklho swaying in time,
She is the grace of her ancestors translated in sound

The gadje can’t see how she carries the miles and years,
Across centuries and continents in wagons, our homes,
They say “Dance Gypsy, Dance!”, she spins to the tones,
They’ll know none of her pain, she denies them her tears

The guitar increases its speed, the crowd comes awake,
A shared moment mid-performance, enough to go on,
Each footfall a memory, an echo of time gone,
And a prophecy as well, for more miles yet await

And so dance she does, improvised yet exact,
She knows she’s a fetish, understands this game well,
Eyes outlined in charcoal, skirt hemmed with bells,
She sells them the fantasy they’ve come to transact

Diklho — a Romani head scarf; a modesty garment.
Gadje — Romani word for any non-Romani person; an outsider.


Written by

I’m a Developer, Activist, Husband & Father. Romani descendant. Find me on Twitter @Ryan_Nehring or email at Top writer in Politics.

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