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So this is dancing?
Unbridled and free, abandoned and wild.
My feet swivel as I watch
hands cross over their chests
eyes closed, across the room,
in a circle or together, but still alone,
solo not lonely, only here to
move. Only here to have a good time. The rest get
bumped knocked apologise for stepping
on our toes. But we don’t care. We shrug it off
we’re dancing. We jump; our ankles touch the backs of our knees –
no reason to, but we touch the roof anyway.
We are in synch, we are free
with one another. We’re out of beat, and in time.
Pain not an option
in this sacred space we
created. I open my eyes –
sweat beading, knees bending, intakes of breath chest
heaving to the words of
“this is my song”. Yes it is – my song, your song,
struggle song and songs of freedom
hearts palpitating, fingers snapping.
This, this is dancing.

Author Jerome Cornelius

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