soft shoes

soft shoes

listening to a ballet lesson on a wed toward evening.

obviously, they are just learning, positioning tender hips in first, awkwardly stretching arms to fill space, shrugging shoulders in anxiety. it’s in the notes, in how simple the rhthym is and how it drifts, methodically, down the corridor. i can tell there are nervous feet dancing, new minds racing around tondue and plie…someone wants to be perfect.

babies, dreaming of being beautiful, of tights and toeshoes. a life begins, this passions pushing, the soft piano notes, and the whole idea of twirling and entering the music. this is the breeding of a dragon. for the girls in that room who love it, the dragon is immortal.

a part of them–married, immobile, distracted, content, whatever–will always dance. this part will be drawn, as if through the marrow of thier bones, magnet like, to classes, to open floors, to melodies and soft shoes. and it will always dance, this part. always. even when still, it will dance.