This body, a burden
crooked spine, flat arches,
pain for bones too young
to bear such wear.
But then, music.

The floor gives lift to my feet,
Cadence of heart to bass drum,
tendons, muscles, and flesh stretch,
leaping, reaching, turning, tapping,

With dance, I am.

Grace: golden, fair and straight,
The flow of willing limbs
effortless lifting and lilting,
twirling and whirling
keeping time
picking up speed

With dance, I am.

Flying: waves of hair streaming
sweet sweat drying
wind catches my breath

and I am air.