The Song of the Sun and the Moon

Ballet Dancer

The dance was all that she had now,
She had turned to face her destiny in a mock bow,
They had taken away any chance she might have had,
And now they were going to see how much they had made her mad,
They had thought her too fragile, too small to hurt,
They had not glanced once while she burnt,
They had left her as ashes blown to the wind,
Her innocence dissolved as they sinned,
And while she may have looked like a broken rag doll,
Their words and their actions having taken their toll,
She was made of stronger stitching than unwoven thread,
She would rise stronger than when she was left for dead,
She was naught their doll to bend at their will,
She was the ballet dancer who would continue to dance still,
She was the ballet dancer who would not miss a step,
She was the ballet dancer who had not wept,
Even as they had pulled her apart a piece at a time,
She would not let them claim her as 'mine',
So she used her body to break their mind chains,
Leaving nothing left to them except stains,
She limped away on broken shoes with cracks all to show,
She fled from those who had hurt her and shown to be a foe,
Stumbling into a closed down theatre with spiderwebs aglore,
As silent as the non existent audience she pushed ajar the door,
Stumbling down the runway to find herself a stage,
She has finally started a new chapter on a brand new page,
Gingerly and in pain she climbs upon the wood,
Varnished smooth and smelling of dust she gingerely stood,
The curtains were torn, hanging sadly in their place,
The mirrors broken and cracked, distorting her face,
The only music to be found was the wind whistling through the slits,
As the wooden panneling and walls had crumbled away to bits,
But for the first time in her life, this ballerina stood tall,
She stretched her arms and lifted high before falling to the floor,
Her broken legs filled with pain would not sustain her weight,
But there was no one here to watch, to snarl and to berate,
So she pushed aside the pain and stood on her feet once more,
She stretched her hands to the ceiling and pushed up from the floor,
Up she rose and round she spun, twirling in the dark,
Her tattered dress and stained shoes starting to lose their marks,
She stumbled a few more times, kissing the floor some more,
But a baby bird must test its wings before it begins to soar,
She lived in that old theatre, as broken as she had been,
For years she was presumed dead as she had not been seen,
But as the years went by she grew into a woman,
Growing braver and stronger until with fear she was done,
So the broken ballet dancer who had healed from her scars,
Proudly stepped out into the light, shining under the stars,
She took her place upon a stage that was as full of life as she,
And they were shocked to see she had become more than they had said she would be,
For she had left as a broken ballet dancer who only had the dance,
They had seen the droop of her head and the defeat in her limp hands,
But this woman had hands stretched tall and to the sky,
And her face gleamed with the hope that she never left to die,
The world welcomed her once more into its fold,
And her dancing became a legend for generations to be told,
Her dancing told of hope and love derived from such sorrow,
Her dancing told of hope that there is always a better tomorrow,
And the world watched as her story unfolded before their eyes,
And they learnt the true meaning that hope never dies,
The ones who had broken her retreated to the shadows,
To learn about reaping what one sows,
And so she danced for the life she had once had and the life she had now,
But never did the world see her take her final bow,
To this day the world whispers of an eternal ballet dancer,
Who makes beautiful music of everything that life hands her,
Who dances under the light of the sun and the moon,
Who dances in the night, the day, until midnight and high noon.