Barefoot on the floor
She is taking dance steps
Not move away steps
Not sorry to disturb steps
Not walk away in shame steps
Not hope you can't hear me steps
But dance steps
I was there and I couldn't stop thinking:
all this time you had it in you
the rhythms were already there
unreachable
now: reachable.
I was there this moment watching her
becoming more of who she is
becoming more than she thought she
could be
Barefoot on the floor.
She is moving like the air is suddenly her own.
Not everybody else's air
Not I’m sorry that I breathe air.
Not I hope you can't see me air.
But her own air
And her body, wordlessly deserving
to be there
to be her own
There is something about the dance,
she said,
something in how it makes me feel
and then
she smiled
Duberg, Anna
Poetry in Pediatrics 2012