To Have a Dream...

September 26, 2017
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One time, my friend told me
I was lucky to have a dream.
I said I was a slave to it
and always have been
and ever shall be.


When I was 6,
I walked into a ballet studio
for the first time,
Saw porcelain dolls
Bounding and spinning
Across the stage of my mind,
Then suddenly I was
Clara, Esmeralda, Juliet,
Flying through the air in the arms of a boy
I didn’t know
Unable to get back to solid ground.


When I was 9,
The studio became my home and
I was the doll,
Bounding and spinning
Across the stage in a dark, empty theater
Until I didn’t know
Which way was home.

When I was 11,
I was no longer the doll.
I was skin and bones
Falling and breaking,
Pushed to the back row
As new, pretty dolls came
Bounding and spinning,
Across the stage, littered with
Broken pieces.
And I no longer knew
What I was.


When I was 14,
A new stage housed broken pieces
That got swept up on a breeze of hope
Landing off stage
Only able to watch in the shadows as
Porcelain dolls came
Bounding and spinning
Across a stage bathed in light.
Then I knew
Who I was.


Now I’m 16,
A single frame captures
Porcelain dolls
Bounding and spinning
Frozen on a stage, blinded by light.
A single moment caught by a little black camera that might someday, lead me back to the limelight.


And I pity those still trapped on stage
Dancing other people’s life.

But I envy those who still love their prison.

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