Dance Partner

I want a different dance partner.

I’ve been dancing with me
for a long time,
and I’m tired of it.
I’m tired of my self as dance partner.

My soul self longs to move easily,
run in wide circles with arms outstretched,
be swung with hair flying,
skip, laugh, dance.
She is bursting to be free.

My small self, she is wary.
She dances, sort of,
but she is keenly aware of being watched,
and she is stiff in her movement
and takes tiny steps.

She has fear, my small self.
She fears other people
and whisks me into a corner when they approach us.
Or, she gets the idea that we will be safer right next to someone else,
so she pushes us up close with other dancers
and none of us can move well.

She is so reactive.
Just when my soul self starts to feel the stir of wildness
and begins to move with increasing passion,
my small self senses danger,
pulls into a protective position,
and takes me with her.

I’m tired of it.
I don’t want this.
I don’t want to dance with her any longer.

Thank you, small self, for all the dances.
You have sought to keep me safe for many years.
But I don’t want your safety now.
I don’t want to place my trust
in your jerking, reactive movements.
I don’t want to dance with you
any more.

I know you won’t leave immediately.
You will stand up against the wall,
and when you sense danger,
real or imagined,
you will wave frantically at me,
trying valiantly to get my attention,
seeking to protect me at all costs,
even if the price is my freedom,
my life.

Thank you for your diligence,
but I do not want it.
Love has asked me to dance,
and I have said yes,
and we have ground to cover,
movement to feel,
music to hear.
I have chosen a new dance partner.

Love leads with a light hand
but I have never felt more secure in my life,
and we swing and whirl with joyful abandon,
unconstrained as wind.

Nothing can contain us
and off we glide,
unafraid, assured,
thrilling to the music of the spheres —

happy,
jubilant,
restored . . .

free.

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