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Tiny Dancer
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Just To Get Stuff Of My Mind By the setting of the sun,
With music in the air,
The roar of the crowd echoed,
Everyone was laughing with excitement,
Except for the tiny dancer.
A knot in her stomach,
The shaking of her hands,
She was preparing for her dance,
But fear of disappointment overcame all.
The tiny dancer was nervous,
And as she walked on stage,
To take her turn,
The knot tightened.
But as the music began to play,
The nervousness disappeared.
She felt her feet move in time,
And soon she felt as though she were alone,
As though she were free.
Enjoyment took flight,
She relaxed.
She allowed her muscles to run,
Through the familiarity of the movements.
No longer was she afraid.
She was free.
Coming to an end,
Breathing heavily,
She stared out over the crowd,
Her grin slowly slipping away.
The air was silent.
Her freedom slipping.
A single clap,
That was all it took,
The crowd began to cheer.
Pride welled up in her heart,
She had not disappointed,
Her spirits were raised.
She was the tiny dancer.
Her dance,
One of angels.
There are so many ways to respond
to a poem this evocative using words for the smallest moments and sensations.
Moving from moment to moment you embody the struggle between precision and the impossibility of using language precisely.
Finding a place for your unique language to enter.
You conjure up the discovery of sound and meaning and how the two meander and dance together on the stage of your imagination.
stay safe
be happy
Peace
Dylan
"One of the best results of life, is the torment of love"
Dylan Eliot