The Dancer


i can only watch the scene as it is shown,

but the stage is blurry -

perhaps it is I that has yet to find the right pair of glasses,

or perhaps it is the dancer who has cause it to be so.

So young, so very young,

and yet so old, unthinkably old.

Yet in her youth the joy is ancient;

and in the age,

there is a lost and searching child.

She rises, and she falls

while she rises she cannot help but dance with us,

but when she falls she choses to dance alone,

and we know not that she has fallen;

we see only the lonely dance on the blurred stage.

We do not ask to understand the fall,

for even she does not at times

we can only gently remind that dancing alone makes the fall harder to bear.

We will dance with you when you fall, my friend;

allow us to hold your hand.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

written about my friend Liana

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