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Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Poetry by ballerinas for ballerinas

My friend Laura Rogers wrote and read this poem at the West Hollywood Book Fair this weekend. I asked her if she would let me share it with all of you and she graciously said yes.


Dancing Home

I put on my pointe shoes and tied the ribbons around my ankles. The well-known pressure formed around my toes as I stood and adjusted my skirt. Moving towards the bar, the box of my shoes made a familiar tapping sound on the mahogany dance floor. I placed my hand on the smooth, curved wood of the practice bar, and I was home.

I relevéd, and the stretch in my calves brought on a rush of adrenalin. I couped, frappéd, pas de bourréed: I danced. Stretching my arms over my head in fifth position, I let my fingers form into the soft graceful hand of a ballerina.

I walked into the middle of the room and faced the mirror that was so often my audience. I prepped for a pirouette and then pushed off. When I turn I am a whirlwind, and I sweep away the negative thoughts of the outside world. When I leap I fly and leave everything below me. When I am en pointe I am a giant and nobody can touch me. I am a ballerina, and this is what I do, for this is who I am.

Thank you so much for sharing this, Laura!


Anonymous said...

wow. what a beautiful poem.
i am not a ballerina, just another ballet student, but thank you good teacher for helping us be part of this amazing performing art. i shall miss ye tonight, cuz i have a social duty that i am attending tonight.
yes, i would rather be bad as i dance, it is my fix, and i totally enjoy it.

BalletLA said...

Thank you, Inge! I missed you in class last night - hope you had fun wherever you were!

And you ARE a ballerina!

xo leigh