“If you stumble, make it part of the dance.”

pointeshoesI’m grateful for everything ballet taught me, and was to me. 

(Not exactly a poem, but it came out in a form that just wouldn’t work in blank verse or prose.)

I loved the wooden floors that gave,
the sticky crumbly woody grains of rosin.

The girly-voiced babble, the lightness.
Each idle move a task ground down to perfection
under a pale pink satin-covered darned tip of a shoe.
The way the lazy winter sunlight made
speck-filled trails from the windows to the floors.
The solid, polished, familiar wooden barre.
Predictability, and structure, and discipline
Beneath the yearning to be light, surreal, 
nymph-beautiful in clouds of net and tulle.
The solidity of practice, solitariness of perfecting, 
solidarity of routine with every other dancer in the world. 

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One thought on ““If you stumble, make it part of the dance.”

Send me sunshine, light and love! :) Constructive criticism is also welcome.

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