An Interpretive Dance

Flowing.
I'm weaving through your words
I flutter like a thousand birds.
I'm flowing
in and out of nothing, from a
vantage point of everything
going down into something
from anything I hear.

A pirouette.
Spinning through desperate air
look around; nothing's there.
I create a pirouette
with my gently arching body,
standing bright up tall
twirling through dead space
hoping to come to a stop
for no one told me to go.

Fighter's stance.
I rock on my heels, ready for blood,
a Venus fly trap, no longer a bud
I've dropped into a fighter's stance
and I'm ready to fall into a
fighter's embrace,
ready myself for whatever
comes next in a world where
everyone and no one is ready
to fight for their lives, always.

Falling.
I drop to the ground and I'm wondering
why my body convulses and blood gets to thundering.
I'm falling
onto hard-packed earth inside a
carpeted house, because my
imagination has gotten away again
and I'm not here anymore;
I've dug myself deep this time and
I may not return.

Dancing.
That's all this is; just a dance to show
what I feel and all that I know.
I'm dancing
out my fears and my worries and strife
I'm hoping to learn more about
everything I know and all that I don't
but what can one learn from
interpretive dance
except what they feel?

Noticing.
I'm noticing the subtle change in my thought,
the way that my loyalty was spent and then bought
I'm noticing
things which have never been said
or uttered by people who
don't really want to know
the things brought to attention by
people like me.

Ending.
My dance now comes to a close, I'm afraid
and so many connections have yet to be made
I'm ending
my dance because knowledge
is a scary thing to have;
especially when the things
learned
happen to be about
the learner.

No one ever wants
to see themselves
in the mirror.