Gifted a Dancer
Long before I was gifted a dancer,
I danced myself.
A taste of tap, a year of ballroom,
and a decent dose of ballet.
After doing my bit as a snowflake,
a Turkish delight and a lilac fairy,
it didn't take a prima ballerina
to recognise my need to pursue other skills.
Shortly after I was gifted a dancer,
but before we knew there was more than Wiggles bopping,
I discovered my name of grace.
Sartika, sacred dancer,
one who hears the silent music
As I first realised I had been gifted a dancer,
I found my soul space,
my ballroom, full of pedestals and expectations,
with no space to dance.
The music had faded,
drifted off to a distant place,
and the sacred dance became a dirge.
As I wonder at the dancer I have been gifted,
as I see her blossom,
growing in strength, maturing in expression,
floating and turning with such freedom,
I am encouraged to clear the way
for the sacred dance to continue
and for the music to return.