How hard it must be for you
To see the empty spaces in your closet
Where years of ballet costumes hung
Where piles of worn through ,
Pointe shoes gathered.
You remember where it all began,
Through my memories
And your earliest ones.
It started even before your first dance class
Even before you learned how to walk.
When you were a baby
The only thing that took your pain away
Was when I danced with you in the night
All hours of the night
When you couldn’t sleep.
You would rest your head on my shoulder
And there was peace there
In the unsung melody
And the rhythm of movement
With the two of us in a hallway
Or unlit room where night kept us company.
The next best thing
When you were only 2 years old
Was your music box ballerina.
We both laughed as I twirled you around on your wood bedroom floor
As we listened to the first few notes
Of swan lake
Winding it over and over again
Then at 3
The first time you put on your
You found the very thing that you
For years to come.
It would follow you
From the room
Where you learned to dance
To the stage
To other schools in different cities
To your dreams at night
Where your feet would still move as if they were dancing.
It has been a relationship of love and pain
Passion and perfectionism
Beauty and destruction.
You tried to dance through your injuries
Maybe if you pretended you were okay
You would forget the pain.
But the most catastrophic injury you had
Would not let you forget it existed.
It crept into your spine
With an ugly rage
That ravaged you of your ability to dance.
And broke your spirit.
I put away years of tutus
And those worn out pointe shoes
That you loved so much
Because the tears in the once smooth satin
Showed how hard you worked.
I hope that when you do look back
You will think of it as a part of your life that didn’t leave you behind
But a part of you
You have kept alive
Through other things sacred