for my daughter
cheering the villain
in black pointe shoes—
her evil so magnificent
Posts Tagged ‘dance’
One Maleficent
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ballet, dance, daughter, sleeping beauty on December 11, 2022| 2 Comments »
Once Upon a Night
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dance, daughter, mother, play on November 17, 2022| 7 Comments »
In the living room after dinner, my daughter
plays Tchaikovsky on Alexa
and dances every character in Sleeping Beauty—
Aurora, the prince, the evil fairy,
the lilac fairy, the bluebird, the jewels—
she leaps and lifts, she jumps
and twirls and raises her arms
with a delicate twist of each wrist.
She is more wing than limb,
more song than blood,
more frolic than bone.
To watch her is holy business
as she learns to make each step beautiful.
Longing to Be Seen
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dance, ekphrasis, hope, Kayleen Asbo, still life, Van Gogh on July 1, 2022| 6 Comments »
after the painting “The Bedroom” by Vincent van Gogh and the piano composition “Yellow Bed” by Kayleen Asbo
In the tilted room with the yellow bed,
hope waltzes on the wooden floor—
one, two, three, one, two, three—
not that you see it there,
it’s not obvious like the windows,
the paintings, the mirror, the pitcher, the chairs.
Hope is what you don’t see.
But it is there, beside the water glasses,
beside the long towel.
Hope sways so keenly
to snatches of melody
the whole room seems to sway.
And it’s one, two, three,
one, two, three; Who, hope says,
will dance with me? It promises
friendship. It promises rest.
Will you dance? it asks, a dizzy mess.
It promises community. It promises fame.
Will you dance? it asks, but it smells
of paint and faraway dreams.
It smells of madness and longing to be seen.
Will you dance? it says, its arms flung out.
Here is where Vincent said yes.
Some see a still life, but others see
the whirling, the twirling, the beautiful
spinning of hope, reeling hope,
fragile hope.
No Regret
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged burn, dance, flame, gratitude, path on April 27, 2022| 6 Comments »
Some moments are flame.
There was a time
I wanted a promise
we would not burn.
Now I give myself to the blaze
knowing the burn
is part of the path,
knowing that matter
dances best
once it’s ash.
The Teacher I Never Could Have Wished For
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dance, grief, stillness, teacher on February 6, 2022| 6 Comments »
I am still learning how to dance with grief—
it leads me through strange sequences,
intricate steps I have yet to master.
Just as I think I have learned
what comes next, I stumble, I step
on my own feet, I trip, I fall. I never
ask myself if this is a dance I want to learn.
It’s the dance I’ve been invited to dance.
If asked, I might have said no. But
today, grief holds me tightly, as if
to keep me from falling. Then loosens
its grasp as I let myself be led.
I am a student in trust. And we glide,
and I’m spun, and sometimes
we just stand, this stillness
its own kind of dance
I am slow to learn.
All that Dances Through
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dance, grief, mirth, stillness on January 30, 2022| 6 Comments »
Though grief prefers a solemn shuffle
and mirth prefers to shimmy and skip,
they often come together
on the dance floor of the heart.
They’re not picky about the music.
Really, all they want from me
is a dance hall spacious enough
where there’s room for them both
at the same time—
a place where mirth can whirl
and grief can shamble.
When I’m small,
they push against the inner walls
and kick me in the ribs,
and they dance, and they dance.
I feel every step.
Is it true I can hold it all?
And I am what is still
as grief lumbers and mirth leaps.
And I am what is still here
long after the dancers leave.
Watching My Daughter in The Nutcracker
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged ballet, dance, dark, daughter, light, smile on December 19, 2021| 10 Comments »
Tonight I fall in love with the mirliton
in the blue and white tutu—the way
she leaps, the way she angles her arm.
Not that I didn’t love her before
when she was a soldier, when she
was a snowflake, when she was a bon bon
or an angel in frothy white fluff. But tonight,
more than anything, it is her smile
that makes me weep in row H.
Because it is real, her joy in the chassé,
the grande jeté, the pas de bourrée.
Because her joy is my joy. Because
I know what she’s danced through
to get to this stage where that smile
spreads across her face like the sunrise
the first morning after winter solstice—
an essential, growing light aware of the dark,
just learning what it can do.
Family Woman
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged career, choice, dance, devotion, family, woman on July 23, 2020| 2 Comments »
Such awkward dance partners,
this longing to follow my own pursuits,
this longing to be ever available to you.
Both want to lead.
They step on each other’s feet.
One waltzes, though the other
has put on rock and roll.
One loves eye contact, the other
loves closed eyes to better feel the music.
And yet they whirl and two step every day,
taking turns swinging and dipping and bowing.
I used to think they were rivals.
Now I know neither wants to dance alone.
Even now, they’re pushing back the furniture,
rolling up the rug. There’s gonna be a real
fine hoedown tonight.
After Dropping My Children Off at their Dance Recital Dress Rehearsal
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged dance, poem, poetry, self acceptance on May 21, 2016| 10 Comments »
I no longer have the shiny black shoes
with metal taps on the bottoms—
though if I did, they would perhaps sit
in the back of the closet along with the wigs,
the boas, the long black gloves.
How I used to love the sounds they made—
fa-lap, fa-lap, fa-lap ball change—
such a shiny, happy silver sound
that used my own heart as a metronome.
I was never much good, but I didn’t care,
I held out my arms with wrists upturned just so
and shuffled and clicked and smiled
for no one but myself. I think of that
today as I dance in the office alone,
it’s a quiet affair without the right shoes,
and I am clumsy with lack of practice,
but laughter makes a fine music
for everything inside me dancing.