Four Sonnets on Shen Yun Performing Arts, by Evan Mantyk

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On Shen Yun

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I.

The land of China. Deep in history
That like a river flows with people and culture,
Extending into misty mystery.
But now this fascinating, gleaming treasure
Is buried in the mud beneath the beast
Of communism seeking to destroy
The goodness and the beauty of the East,
Turning to sadness what once brought perfect joy.

That’s when, now twenty years ago, there came
A group of Chinese artists in New York,
Recalling China before communism’s shame.
Alas! They knew that they should get to work.

Above the mud of modern life they’d hold
A lotus brighter than red China’s gold.

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II.

The stage lights up and every corner glows
Exalting dance itself in purest form.
Each costume, prop, played note, and backdrop flows
In sync as if alive. They all perform
As one together, energetic, strong,
And joyful, celebrating all creation
To which the audiences too belong—
Each dance move feels just like their own sensation.

The dancers freely pass into the art,
Becoming backdrops, backdrops becoming them,
Enriching stories that their dances impart—
An ornate case around their graceful gem.

So too the audience becomes the show:
Their smiles and tears reflect the stage’s glow.

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III.

As swift as dragons, as grand as phoenixes
Court dancers fly across the lit up stage.
Now faeries show their true appearances
Delighting eyes of every rank and age
With poise and grace in even the slightest move
And all together flowing as if one.
For five thousand years the dance improves;
Though dynasties pass, the show is never done…

Till troops invade the theater, make a mess.
Tear down the backdrops, make them plain and red.
The dance moves mixed and modernized regress—
Their elegance and purity near dead.
But wait! The curtain opens! Shen Yun is here!
Faeries, dragons, and phoenixes reappear!

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IV.

The curtain closes. Clustered beads of sweat
Are wiped away, traditional ethnic costumes
Exchanged for plain clothes. All must strike the set.
At last returning to their hotel bedrooms,
They wake the next day, gather anywhere
They can to read from teachings that extol
Three words—Truth, Compassion, and Forbearance—
That cultivate and purify the soul.
Now sitting deep in meditation’s stillness,
Their clothes transform to Gods’ and Buddhas’ robes
And shine intensely with a perfect brilliance
Embodying the soul of onstage roles.
In yellows, purples, blues, and rainbow color,
Their images represent an inner wonder.

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Evan Mantyk teaches literature and history in New York and is Editor of the Society of Classical Poets. His most recent books of poetry are Heroes of the East and West, and a translation of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight.