world in flames, world attacks,
tell me, why do children dance?
moment of doubt, fear of pain,
tell me, how does dance remain?
how to explain, but by naming names:
grands jeté, plié, the pirouette,
the dance hidden in shadow,
more than silhouette. the trace
of the body, written in moonlight,
a new language so easily understood,
the place of foot, en pointe, no need
to explain to a child the fascination
of figure and plane, instead I watch you
profound, your dance and what will always
remain, you move transported,
beauty concealed, revealed,
your revel in the creation of this
moment, your answer to my doubt,
is dance real?
image by W. Maxwell
Peterborough Poets 