The Irish used to believe
That they had to dance secretly.

I have danced for God;
I have met Dionysus—

Those inebriated nights
Drunk Dancing on My Driveway.

I learned belly-dance;
Taught myself a routine.

But nothing felt as great 
As dancing for God.

I never hid it from Him;
I allowed myself to fall—

For I was seeking God,
And, boy, did it befall.

God didn’t want a dance.
He’d wanted me to be strong.

And go at the chance
To promise to love.

So, if this Dance is Love’s Embrace—
Then, boy, do I love God.

©2025Ellen Finn