Dance

It doesn’t just mean to move rhythmically to music.

It’s artistry, bravery, endurance.

I dance as though telling a story.

Making each step a different word.

As I drag my feet across the floor,

I create my own mural.

I dance to my favorite song or no song at all.

My own creative rhythm.

Twirling around and around, I’m free.

Like the child I wish never grew up.

Dance isn’t just an afterschool activity.

I go to learn.

To be taught things that can’t be taught through books.

Although when it comes to counts of eight,

I’m a mathematician.

Dance is expression,

Relief,

Motivation.

It’s as if all my emotions are sealed in a jar.

But once I hit the floor, the lid flies off,

Releasing all those emotions into the music.

But it’s not just expressing emotions that need to be released.

A little sass and spunk is welcomed as well.

Frustration is a common encounter.

Falling out of a turn,

Mad.

My leg won’t go as high as it should,

Disappointed.

I beg my legs to stretch.

To stretch like a rubber band with no breaking point.

To allow me to have flawless jumps.

Sometimes the tables turn, causing injury.

It’s as if someone has pulled, twisted, and ripped every muscle in my leg.

I know what some people think when they see me.

No, I don’t have the ideal image of a dancer.

I withhold something greater,

The ideal passion.

No, I don’t have flawless technique.

No, I can’t stretch my leg behind my head

Or make it point North, South, East, and West

All in one.

But I can dance.

If dance has taught me one thing

It’s to not just go through the motions in life

But to create a story while I'm at it.