The DANCER

When people ask if I play any sports,

I correctly and politely respond, “I dance”.

It seems as though they’re in a trance

And time after time, not letting me down

They answer “dance isn’t a sport”

So I firmly take my stance.

See dance isn’t just twirling around on a stage

Or pointing your toes and turning your feet out.

It isn’t just smiling with a bun in your hair

We train hard in the studio, day in and day out

Covered in sweat as our feet beat about

We push until the bottoms of our shoes are wore can’t take another pirouette

Until there is no more capacity for our muscles to stretch

To you it may seem as though I simply put on a tutu

And jump around like 2 year-olds do

In reality I do what few

Have the guts to even attempt

I have the responsibility, the audacity

To make one’s dreams a reality

To generate a touching story

All while smiling and making it look easy

A piece of cake they say

You don’t have to do anything, they say

It’s all just a gilded façade masking nothing.

And I promptly respond

Have you seen our toes

Or felt our sore muscles

Seen our hopes of a perfect performance dissolve into a Facebook video.

I entrust my body weight into the hands

Of the minutest bone in my foot.

Dancers train like athletes, walk like athletes, breath athleticism.

But wait “dance still isn’t a sport”

The definition of a sport does not specify

A necessity for a ball or allotted set of time

It even happens to defy

The commonplace stances on spectator sports

Football players may crash together

And volleyball players be the perfect setter

But there’s one thing you’re missing

See a football weights only 14 ounces

A catch, 6 points it announces

Yet sometimes one can’t even fathom the thought

Of touching the smallest pig skin covered spot

See us dancers throw hundred pound women in the air

If you don’t catch one, your err ends in stares and bewares

You may see me as a dancer,

But dancing requires a much more dumbed-down answer

I’m an Olympian, a dream catcher,

A champion

Or maybe just a prancer.

I stand tall, knowing the honor I have

Dancing in loving memory

Or portraying a sight to see.

I may be a dancer, but in my head I’m a DANCER

And that’s good enough for me.