Slowly walking into the building, entering my love
Smelling the sweat and tasting the struggles of the masters before me,
I was home.
This is where the value of art lies, brushing at the soles of aspiring children,
Learning the power that a single stroke of a gracious hand could evoke
I was f
a
l
l
i
n
g
In love.
The twirl of your body and the leap of your legs,
Painting the canvas of your life, your loves, your struggles
The stroke of art like the stroke of my heartstrings moves me.
This is my love, dance
Inspired by Ode " Perhaps the World Ends Here" by Joy Harjo
by Jennifer White
Thursday, May 6, 2010
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Love the form
ReplyDelete-Brandi H
Wow
ReplyDelete-B. Parker
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ReplyDeleteI like the form of your poem. I also like the beginning, even though the place you were in was full of struggles you still aceepted it enough to call it home.
ReplyDelete-Stacy S.