In honor of International Day of Dance
She believed in turning every day
into drawings of perfect lines.
She’d spin into her candied clouds
over Paris and Saturn’s skies.
Her narrowed gaze was bright and distant
from the other kids at school
who couldn’t discern her choice of tutus
over playdates and basketball.
She saw herself in cityscapes,
her heart as full as opera.
Her tears were just the sweat of will
as a little girl singing Tosca.
She elevéd above her years
to reach at rainbows ends.
Enough was never what she’d hear
but a place to try again.
She kicks me when I’m too afraid,
positions me to fight for her.
For that badass little girl deserves
for me to still believe in her.
Writing by: Katy Claire Funke
Dance was my life from the time I was four until I was sixteen. Everyday my mom would pick me up after school and take me to my five hours of dance lessons. Every weekend was devoted to dance conventions and competitions locally and nationally. Every summer was endless camps, intensives and performance tours. Dancing became my identity, my language and way of life, and the team of dancers that I grew with became my family and forever friends. We shared in unforgettable experiences the disappointment of not performing at our best. I can’t imagine my life without dance and I am so grateful to be a life-long dancer.