To dance – a perspective of bones, a musical bath,
It’s clearing a path of one’s own,
Blue jeans and muscle or crinoline rustle,
You learn it in class or alone: to dance.
To dance – it’s a gravity thing
Shoes to the earth, pulling toward a verse that is beckoning,
Oh, the dizzy effect of rhythm and sweat,
Flying like a kid in a swing,
To dance.
Arms in a moment’s unworried connection,
A telling of hearts, where they don’t need protection,
A journey in place; a private affection to share.
To dance is swimming in time,
Where passion in public and prudence can somehow align,
Moving like lovers on top of the covers,
And everyone knows it’s alright to dance,
Touch without touching; love without grieving,
Hold on and let go without anyone leaving,
All of it part of the beat you’re receiving and sending back out through your feet,
In itself, it’s complete,
And, God, it is sweet to dance.
To dance – the movement confides limbs in a language spoken in three quarter time,
And it’s suddenly gone at the end of the song,
And you know you were safe all along to dance,
To dance, to dance.
