The Ballerina

POSTED IN contemporary poetry September 7, 2015

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Ballerina

The light kissed their faces
Heaven’s hue through which it shown
An empty stage apart from her alone.
She needs no music, and stutters a breath
Her once stable ankles surrender and creath.
The silence is deafening
She feels so alone
On this worn old stage that she still calls her home.
Her dance is pure instinct,
and comes quickly with
Their judgement nearly brings her down to her knees.
Though they still stare, calculating and cold
Upset that she doesn’t fit into their perfect mould.
That smile, too big.
Those legs too long
Everything about her is perfectly wrong
She tries to continue,
hold her chin up
But the pressure is too much,
and she ceases to try.
Her dance is over,
she takes her  bow
Her confident front is over now
She turns her back to her ghostly crowd,
She’ll hold in her tears, she’s far too proud
Walking away is the hardest part,
But no amount of applause can heal this broken heart.

Celine Brielle