The Writer is Dancing
"My first dance of the day is in that intangible place,
From in the air above me, swirling about my head, whirls of letters and words",
The Writer Is Dancing
My first dance of the day is in that intangible place,
From in the air above me, swirling about my head, whirls of letters and words,
Sentences forming, coming together to form messages,
I absorb the raw bits as I prepare to speak without my lips.
The chorus comes from my heart,
It spreads out to awaken the recesses of my mind and memories,
Bring richness to the song with pieces of my life,
Real or imagined, tangible, or mysterious.
My mind becomes the composer of the song,
To bring the melody together with what it is compiling,
As my heart is still contributing, sending the dance to soaring new heights,
Words are still flying, or sometimes, just floating, into my brain from all around me.
The dance is melding together so I can then transpose it,
Transcribe it, to preserve the beautiful notes,
As they come together to keep every element forever,
Existing as a masterpiece of literary song and dance.
Once I have it all captured, I practice and learn every piece,
I tweak and tune it until the family forms, the beats mate,
The rhythms are born, and the music grows,
And then the dance overtakes my body, and makes me kin.
In exultation I stand to deliver my dance,
In joy I move around my physical space,
Standing up to move and groove with the music and notes loud in my soul,
And, with a smile on my face and excitement in my belly, I dance the closing scene of this writer’s dance, and take a bow.
By Lise Parton