i remember moving
in my mind
as if it was just yesterday,
but my limbs seem to stutter
as i begin to utter the prayers.

there is a rift between
my words and my feet,
like a curtain
between the felt and the seen.

i want to write an elegy
to the way my feet knew
just how loudly they must land
to match the beating of my heart.

i want to write an elegy
to the unspoken oath my back took
to never let me look like i was let down -
to always curve and arch like
the weight of the world wasn't on my shoulders
at least for an hour.

i want to write an elegy
to the wonders that my hands created,
an assortment of fury, love, shame, and passion -
hypnotic
in the way they followed the music.

i remember breathing in dance
like it was the only air
in a sea full of fear and despair.
i remember feeling the floor change
into a sentient being,
giving me strength and joy as i moved.

there is a rift between
what my body remembers,
and what my mind wants to remember.
i can only hope
that i don't have to write an elegy
again.