The Dance - Poetry

The Dance

I move like water calm before the wake,

Like rivers that tremble before they break. 

The music pours smoke through my bones and spine, 

Turning flesh and breath into borrowed wine.

Desire lives deep in the arch of my back, 

In the dangerous spaces self control lacks.

I dance in storms before they arrive, 

Heavy with thunder, electric and alive. 

I move like a wildfire learning restraint, 

Like colour escaping the edge of paint. 

I spin like planets pushed higher and higher,

Orbiting rhythm, gravity and fire. 

The floor hums softly beneath my feet, 

Like earth itself has discovered a heartbeat. 

Each motion unravels yet another disguise,

A language and pulse with no need for eyes. 

The music enters me low and deep,

Waking the parts of myself that refuse to sleep.

And when I spin the the whole world seemed to pause,

Caught somewhere between performance and applause. 

My hips speak truths my mouth never would, 

Of hunger disguised as being understood.  

I move like the sea when the moon pulls too near,

Chaotic, consuming, ecstatic and severe. 

Because women were not made for stillness or sleep,

We were made to be felt - profound and deep. 

The Dance