Nureyev – A Flickering Flame

I just watched a video of Rudolf Nureyev’s last years. Years that slowly burnt down his solid talent like a persistent candle that would not surrender to the end of its source, but fed upon just the idea and not the reality of so great an artist. It was painful to watch. It must have been more painful to be that flame pulsing against nothing at the end when it used to be a conflagration of a
genius used to many other lights helping him through and spotlighted as well for us all to watch.

I saw Nureyev when he first came to New York. He frequented the Russian Tea Room with the regal permission only such a great talent could have. He was young and happy to be noticed. We were all at the edges where the darkness and light meet — happy to notice him.
At night he flew across the stage before gravity could pull him down to earth.

He lived it all once he made the jump to freedom. Onstage and offstage. It killed him sooner than we would die. But maybe there is just a hint of jealousy in with our grief that he dared what we could not begin to dare. We stayed on earth while he propelled into the stars.

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About christineemmert

Words have been part of my life. First the spoken word in my time as an actress and increasingly the written word in my shift to writer. I write across the genres, but mostly as a playwright and poet. My interest as my life extends is in the realm of tethering myth to the mundane reality where I live. In this vein I have expanded into stories and novels. Presently I look at how myths taken from past cultures can affect us today. Hence my novella of Lilith which is out on Kindle . I live in the Eastern Woodlands where I try to incorporate nature into my many writing projects. We are so in danger of losing that link to our very planet!
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