Ballet Dancing
Clumsiness is my gift of graceAs I meander one step at a time
Through day to day fire fighting
Where I am my own biggest obstacle
While I attempt ballerina artistry
Instead I fall head over heels
To the next issue I have to face
My unique awkward pirouette
Is akin to a water fed gristmill
That never stops, never quits
Its simplicity and persistence
Has a beauty of its own
That belies the slow grinding
Never ending process of
performing what is necessary
Every second, every minute,
Every hour, every day,
Every week, Every month,
Every year
It is art that feels complacent
Yet is not
Where the steady intensity
Needed to complete each turn
Has no flash yet accomplishes
A needed task that has no glamour
Its steady grinding ferocity
Whispers its own victory
That is self fulfilling
Where applause is not needed
To complete the next turn of its wheel
It relishes in its obscurity
That captures glances
Where no one feels its significance
Until the wheel makes its last turn
Poetry by Kee Zealy
Read 602 times
Written on 2015-06-21 at 18:23
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