These dry bones in this castle of 53 years
warn me that I shouldn’t attempt that double pirouette
when my spine attempts to block, my mind tells it, “not yet”
I look at my teacher, an octogenarian of 85 years
She doesn’t look “no ways tired”
So I say, “Why the heck should I fear?”
An unbelievable high… younger dancers stare.
The sweat just keeps pouring and I keep wiping my face.
Othella Dallas, our teacher, bangs that African drum
and we keep keeping pace.
And when it’s all over and done
She asks me to sing.
And I raise my voice high
from a spiritual place, it comes.
There is healing going on
As everyone in that room, becomes one.