Dancing Through Life

 This is a work in progress that has highlighted all the high points I could think of in my life today.  I still have to add LIMS and Drew Grad School. That will be done eventually, when I feel inspired. Although Drew grad school was such an emotional roller-coaster that it might need its own poem. So too, might the one for LIMS.  

The cold bricks

The colorful rug

Light blue dress

Black backpack over

Thin shoulders.

Warm hand clutching

Smaller, sweaty one.

Tears glisten in Mama’s eyes,

A new chapter of life begins.

Black checkered pants,

Red long sleeved shirt,

Shiny black shoes

Reflect peoples’ faces.

Microphone seems big,

Held in a tiny hand.

A book held, young eyes

Scan the text. Words

She had written sound big

From such a small voice.

Mama tries not to cry.

Her baby grew up a little.

Dogs bark, fur flying,

Puppies running all about.

Eyes shine bright, warm

Fur against soft skin.

Two hearts beat together in

Excitement.

Mama smiles.

First responsibility occurs.

Hands warm hands.

Popcorn smells heavenly,

Mixed with fresh scent

Of cologne. Hands shake,

Brush against each other,

Popcorn flies.

End credits roll,

Nervous hugs goodnight.

Mama smiles, first group

Date. 

Little girl out

With little boy.

Sore muscles, sweat

Pours off skin.
Dirty, muddy shoes and

Clothes.

Boys and girls.

Colonge mixed with

Mud and sweat.

Bodies nervously sway

To music.
Eyes lock,

Music swells.

Love for the first time

Found at camp dance?

I like you…I like like you…

I like like you too.

So…want to be my girlfriend?

Sure!

Mama laughs. Her daughter’s

In a “relationship.”

Gowns itch,

The start whiteness of

The robe, a huge contrast

To the maroon sash.

Names are called, nervous

Legs carry a nervous girl to

The stage.
Mama smiles and cries.

Her daughter “graduated”

From middle school with honors.

Itchy, grey kilt.

Grey socks slide down

From knees.

Shiny black shoes,

White polo shirt.

Heart pounds in chest,

New faces swarm around,

All the girls are nervous.

How will high school be?

Simple dress,

Blonde hair down

And pretty.

Principal, Sister Suzanne,

Speaks, words jumble together.

The coveted ‘L’ pin.

The recipient’s name is

Called.

Ears roar from applause.

Knees nearly give way from

Newborn calf unsteadiness

Heading to the stage.

Mama cries, her freshman won.

Snow white suit,

Matching white boots.

Blond hair down, glasses on.

Long, nimble fingers

Caress the ivory keys,

Tickling out strands of

Bach.

New class ring glints

In the light.

Mama smiles.

Her baby’s playing brings

Tears to her eyes.

Her baby’s now an

Upper classman.

Actors and actresses

Backstage, different world.

A dressing room, plain in everyway

except inside there’s a star.

Speechless—her favorite actor.

Mama laughs at the retelling.

Doorbell rings

Skateboard in hand,

Young boy at door.

“Hey.”

Mama smiles, her baby’s first

Date.

Hard work paid off.

Honors night again.

Another dress,

Another cold chair.

NHS inductions.

Names are called.

Legs approach the stage,

A delirious grin on face.

Mama smiles and is

So proud.

Check in hand,

Microphone is there.

Heart pounds

A nervous tattoo against ribs.

Too jumpy to eat,

Stomach rolls about.

Time to speak.

Voice slightly shaky,

Hands rigidly at sides.

Check handed over,

A warm embrace, tears

Are shining in eyes.

Two unlikely friends,

Helping each other.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t cry.”

A charity is helped.

Long white gown,

A simple red rose.

High heels sink into grass.

Hands shake.

A poem is read, in a less then

Steady voice. The words

Blur together through tears,

But the voice continues.

Mama tries to hold back

Tears but can’t

A new chapter in

Her baby’s life—a

Closing and an opening—

High school graduation.

Car packed, no free space

To sit. Wheels strain

Against the weight.

Heavy lifting, cursing,

Laughing. Gentle humor

Exchanged, overriding

The veritable avalanche of

Emotion bubbling below

The surface.

Mama tries not to cry,

Her girl’s happy but she’s slightly

Sad. Four years of college.

Another new chapter of life begins.

Heat. Whiskers scraping,

Heated skin, hands shaking

As they caress each other.

Teeth and tongue exploring.

Mama doesn’t need to know

About this first make-out session

In the car.

Anger, frustration,

Voice yelling, tears

Threatening to spill.

Fevers racing, embarrassment

Fills the soul.

Trying to keep mouth shut.

Later, sound design gets done

And awarded.

“You did it.” First kind word

from her. A glimmer of

Pride starts to grow.

“I love you.”

“I love you too my love.”

Soft words spoken in a

Cab in a foreign place.

Time stops, lips brush together.

Later, bodies entwine,

Swaying and dancing to

Primitive rhythms.

Love, bliss, Heaven.

“I’m very proud of you my dear,”

A hero says. A success,

A rare time in a life.

A warm embrace hides a

Delirious grin. Mama

Smiles too, she’s also proud

Of her baby’s achievement in

Choreographing a scene.

Love grows, love dies

Much like the winter snow.

Bliss grows old,

People change.

Pain, distrust,

A God becomes a mortal,

A man a devil.

The end looms,

A chapter longs to close.

A ball of fur,

A coal black nose,

Wet pink tongue.

So many hopes pinned

On you. Will you, little pup,

Succeed?

Crash and burn

Emotional slide

Fabric of life rips.

One becomes two.

Mama cries too

But is there to pick of the

Pieces. Her baby will

Find a better man.

Muscles straining,

Tempers flair.

Choreography is shit.

Mama listens and nods,

Understandingly. “You’ll

Figure it out.”

Lights, yellow, orange red

Shine on sweat slicked

Dancers.

Heart thumps in choreographer’s

Chest, keeping rhythm with the

Moving feet. The final

Pose is hit.

Whispering amongst the

Classmates, the director, the

hero. Affirmations are

Heard. She nods but says

Nothing.

Tech drags on. Lights dim,

A blue backpack slung

Over a well-formed shoulder.

A hero exits, but suddenly

Reenters.

Soft hand land on shoulder,

Faces turn toward each other.

The hero smiles.

“Good work, very good work.”

She’s gone before a response

Can be formulated.

Mama will be so proud.

Red lights blaze,

Blinding all.

Heart races,

But not from the dance.

A lift, well executed—

There! In the audience,

She’s crying…a hero is crying.

The dance is finished—no knowledge of

How. The show’s over.

Faces blur from behind tears.

A hand, soft and gentle—

“I read what you wrote.

I’m so touched. Thank you.”

A smile forms, a quick embrace.

Mama knows her baby’s hero is proud

And so is she.

Behind the make-up,

The drunken laugher,

Trepidation runs wild.

The cowardly lion was

A smart choice. Courage

Is needed to get through this.

She gets up, a woman whom

Is idolized. Two sets of brown

Eyes meet across a filled theatre.

“Kelley is a competitive ballroom

Dancer,” she begins, “But she’s

Never been competitive here.”

Tears blur, make-up runs.

The hero has spoken. “I’ll

Leave you with a final affirmation”

But the ears don’t hear. They’re too

Filled by the pounding pulse.

The hero is finally proud.

Formal dress pants,

A white shirt,

Hot beneath the heavy

Black academic robe.

The mortarboard is awkward—

Tilting and falling.

Mama fusses till the last

Moment.

Names are called,

Heels pound against the stage.

Diploma is hard against the skin.

Mama has never been more proud—

Her baby graduated college.