Exhausted slumber,
in deepest Lamentation,
enveloped by my own skin,
Blood Memory of her
seeps in

Dancestry transforms
as art knocks
at my door
I am reminded by
her spirited moves that,
Every Soul is a Circus

Life cycles
in contractions and
slow releases
of breath

Beaming
clavicles reach up to
behold morning's sunrise

As golden rays
tirelessly
leap upon the stage
of a brand new season,
Appalachian Spring

Rescued by the
graceful universe of
contemporary
dance