Still Miss It

Still miss it. 

Still catch myself 

Sitting in positions used

During pre-class warm up. 

When I walk,

My feet still turn out. 

Still remember the steps,

But not always their names. 

Without shoes,

I can still stand en pointe. 

To me, theater 

Will always be theatre. 

There is nothing in the world 

That compares to being a dancer. 

With bloodied toes and aching muscles

And backstage costume changes,

A dancer will always find their way 

To the music, to the stage lights,

To the applause. 

A dancer is living and breathing artwork. 

A dancer can always 

Spot another dancer 

From the way we walk

To the way we hold ourselves. 

For me, my journey began

As I watched Gelsey Kirkland and

Mikhail Baryshnikov perform 

"The Nutcracker " on PBS

During the holiday season 

So many years ago 

When I was just a wee one 

At five years old. 

My dreams were filled with 

My becoming Gelsey Kirkland. 

When I donned my first 

Pair of ballet shoes,

They became not only a part of me,

But also an extension of myself. 

The dance began to

Coarse through my veins. 

My mother told me on several occasions 

That dancing will forever 

Be in my blood. 

She's been right all along and 

I still miss it. 

©Cyndi Mackay 2016