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\lline{\hl Last Night I Saw Desire\'e Dance and I Knew What I Had�
Come For}
\lline{by Neal Wach}
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{\it (I nearly died a queer's death in Vermont. I was crushed to�
bits by the end of a long love affair. Pain and sadness fouled�
the whole Northeast.)}

Desire\'e flew in from the shadows, a sort of giant crane, all�
blue-black, setting down by a corner street light, late my first�
night, with the bar closed and dark while we waited for the�
others to finish. The great bird strutted briefly, bobbing his�
head, the tousled hair in crimped points, shiny patches of black�
leather, gold and silver. He was well over six foot, very long�
and lean, and soon came to rest by a low wall beneath the window.�
I went out to wait for the others and to meet him.

I didn't know him (I only knew of him) but our conversation�
started easily, and for the rest of that night and all the next�
day, when none of us slept and spoke freely, I grew more and more�
fascinated by this man, the bird, a creature glittering in grand�
drag, lain across a bed, or later poised, perched on a bar stool.

There are times when one is a teacher and when one is taught. I�
felt myself becoming more and more the student child, anxious to�
win favor, to please and attract him, but more, just to listen as�
he spoke. He was a witch, and priestess, and talked about power�
and the Goddess and magic, and though I was unaccustomed to�
hearing such things, I was immediately drawn to the genuine and�
obvious truth of what he was saying. I knew, at least, that mine�
was now a spiritual adventure. Desire\'e was to be my first port�
of call in a strange time, this foreign place and state of things�
so unfamiliar to me.

I needed only to remain open and saw my map made that first night�
by his long, elegant gestures, the languid drawl of his speech,�
the sharp, clear focus of Desire\'e's eyes, rimmed in black.

We were together, all of us, those first few days, though I�
stayed close to Desire\'e, asking questions, wanting to know�
everything, listening, watching, following. I was shamelessly�
admiring, adoring, of him. But he, in wisdom, knew I was merely a�
child spirit, newly formed since my escape, raw and vulnerable,�
with an open heart -- that heart which I lay open to him and he�
so powerfully and generously filled. All was (and is, still) new�
to me, this new life which I have begun in so slow and earnest a�
crawl, from east to west, hell to earth, now upward further upon�
his wings.

Concretely, he has helped me see more into love and love of self,�
as something natural and basic, universal. Desire\'e�
distinguishes the personality from ego, the former being born of�
spirit, the true self, and visible. Knowing this, he is a patient�
teacher -- and I, in turn, the perfect student: for the ego�
becomes flimsy and transparent. The ego against which I, at this�
very time of my life, have made my greatest battle; that ego�
which had become in me so heavily rigid and impenetrable an�
armor, that I nearly died for breath within it. I had lost the�
very self it was designed to protect. I couldn't touch, I�
couldn't feel, I couldn't see.

It had to be removed, destroyed. And so it shatters, and I am�
then left to unravel like a bound foot, with the greatest, most�
tortuous pain. I survived, to force upon myself a more humble�
view of the world, by necessity, and in reaction, to heal myself.

I was therefore ready to meet my great bird and finally, one�
night, to see his dance.

It began suddenly, and in such crowded confusion, but I soon came�
to realize, song after song, the experience was mine alone.�
Desire\'e was dancing for me, to make his magic. Others could see�
it too, had they wanted. But gratefully they were all so young�
and pretty and self-absorbed, that I selfishly could be alone. I�
was unique, like a young apprentice, tingling with privilege and�
honor.

Somewhere from behind there came a strange sound, a sort of hoot,�
and Desire\'e fluttered out on to the floor. Because of his size�
(he was so tall and powerful), the others moved naturally away�
from him, and he soon seemed to occupy a space all his own, a�
place on the floor where the light seemed strangely brighter.

Then, in a moment, the world was gone. Suddenly we were alone, my�
teacher and I, in a dark dreamy place where I stood watching from�
the shadows, Desire\'e beneath a bright blue light that shone�
like a star above his head.

He leaned forward, looking down, stretching his long arms further�
toward the floor. He arched his back, then slowly looked up, and�
as he did so, carefully spread his arms outward. And it was then�
that I saw the wings of a phoenix unfold. There before me, a�
great blue-black bird of fire, bright and beautiful spread her�
wings, rising up from the earth. And she began to spin, like a�
dervish with amazing intensity, soaring downward, round, up and�
round again, faster, then slower, but always with the same�
remarkable force. It was this force, a heat I felt, that stirred�
somewhere within me, that I understood and knew to be the force�
of all things primordial and pagan; a dark force, but the�
darkness of night, the night as it implies day, masculine as it�
implies the feminine, the purest strength, the truest power,�
beyond all limitation, beyond knowledge, and fear, and death. It�
was the spirit unchained, unfettered by ego and the world. It was�
love, but a greater love than I know, but a love possible and�
essential. I felt the heat of it, its power and goodness. I could�
want for nothing else again.

A caged bird is not a bird at all. It is desperately half-living�
and selfish amusement. The crumbs we feed it are not enough. It�
dies. Its song is gone forever.

At a time when I am of sex and imagery and the community of men�
in these Plague Years, I cannot starve myself and those I may�
choose to love. I must have all of life. Love must be free.

This radiant spirit, my great bird Desire\'e, enlightened and�
beautiful, has marked me with the magic of his flight. And to fly�
requires such courage and strength, wisdom, and -- above all --�
faith. I think on Desire\'e and must -- will fly. I will only�
fly. \hfill $lambda$

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