the broken dancer




3.As I slip on my slippers and stretch my bones I stare in the mirror

and think I’d make a pretty dancer

I leap across the floor staring at the mirror as I go making sure I point my toes

as I sail through the air I can imagine myself flying only to come back down again but ever so softly

going across the floor ever so gallantly

I stick out my chest and manage three perfected pirouettes

as I turn for a fourth I slip and fall unable to regain my balance I realize that my ankle is broken

the doctor says it will only be six weeks until I can recover, but six weeks turn into months

when I think I can dance again the doctor comes in and says I might not heal properly

Just as I came here I’m broken but this time it’s my heart,

months later I sit on my windowsill thinking, wondering will my time ever come again?

I take my brace off and stand up, it stings but I still try

once I stand I prep and I do this for hours and hours until I tire

I go back to the studio, but it was empty

I take charge and get back and manage my place leaping and bounding across the floor

like I used to once do

as I come to the quadruple pirouette I prepare myself for failure

but I would only fail if I walked away  

I prep and set off marking them as I go





I land gracefully

in fifth position, I hear clapping and praising everybody saw me

and just think the doctor said it couldn’t be done



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