We owned the night

The strums of the guitar started. The night sensed its difference from the previous one. The sound was followed by the beat of the drums. The fire was heightened fiercely with its ashes sometimes joined the air. Who can resist the beauty of these gypsies' blending voices? They talked to the nature, and the once silence was covered by graceful dances, clapping of hands, playing with tambourines, yelling and chanting songs, turning around to the fire in the middle. The stillness of the sea started to rave as they continued to feel the beat of music.


This stunning woman who was amid the bonfire and music holds her long skirt so that her feet won’t distract her balance. She stepped into the gray sand smoothly, sometimes closing her eyes as the sound takes her into an ecstasy.


She owned the night. It was perfect, no one judges and discriminate them. The beating of drums got harder as their chant grows louder. They attach to their hearts that moment, because that’s the time that they pray, feel the pain then let go- so that they can live for another day again.


The stars were twinkling and helping the bonfire to lighten their own territory.


Some gypsies of her age would dance together with her- and one muscled man looked at her because she made the world stand still.


Tomorrow, they will return to their same routine. They will live again on the same unacceptable beliefs as others think.

 But what they don’t know- is that normal people also love to dance. Admire their beauty, stubborness- yet able to know the time to become soft.


Dancing is their soft side- they would probably do it once more.

(Inspired by Lady Antebellum's song, We owned the night- credit for the title must go to that song.)