The Dance

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I’m a fool for words.
I can’t stay away from
them. They define me
and defile me. We dance
out of step, out of time.
Occasionally, we find
our rhythm. Dancing
the language of the
soul. At those times
I like to kick my heels
up in a perfect dive.

I must confess. I’m
envious and in awe
of those dancers who
never seem to stumble,
always in sync with their
poetic voice. Never any
near misses.

I’ll never be the Steve Jobs
of poetry. My words owned
and beloved by the masses.
I’ll never master
Shakespeare’s waltz,
but I will keep swaying,
even trying is a sort
of dance

Perhaps, it’s not so much
about the dance but the
intentions of the dance.
The potential of fluidity
in our bodies as we move
across the green grass

This is the world I
feel most at home in.
My bare feet not
dancing on a rooftop
over a city that glistens
but rooted to the ground.

I’ll never stop dancing.
I will dance, my small
dance of corn maze art
for myself and for those
dancing fools like me
smitten with words.

-Tosha Michelle

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12 thoughts on “The Dance

  1. Why, this is just beautiful, Tosha. You most definitely ARE “dancing the language of the soul” here, your poetic voice sincere and pure. As you say, it’s the intentions that matter. Keep dancing — you’re a “word-dancer” without a doubt.

    Liked by 1 person

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