The Dance of Diova

by Pippin O'Leary

Gracefully prancing away, step at a time
Never getting close enough to feel the heat of the flame.
The Shapes and Shadows sputter, spit and roar
frightening her away, forever alone.

The dance goes on
In the impassive wintry expanse
Far from the warmth of the dancing coals.
The Shapes that surround them crackle and hiss
the dance takes her farther, chilling her soul.

She doesn’t hear the Voices, the Shapes in the flame whisper
“Oh how We wish to see her!
She’s never here, I wonder why?
Does she believe herself too good?
Does she think she can fly?”

Why, why can’t They see?
That all she wants is to speak to Them.
But Their sputtering sounds, the hiss of Their flames
scatters her away, a golden leaf in the wind.
For her own delicate glow, the fire she holds inside
holds not a candle to Theirs, and she is afraid.

She knows in her soul
that They would push her away, They would push her around.
She’s too weak for Them;
while They are too good for her.

So she dances away, trying to keep moving.
For the cold in her soul, the cold in her limbs
the cold surrounding her, within and without.
She know she mustn’t let it conquer her

The Figures, warming by the friendly flame never come.
They leave her be, never to sit and rest.
She must forever glide, prance.
She must always dance.
Until the night comes where she can move no more -
her soul, overcome

Why can’t They see?
She’s dying alone.
Her body will be lost to the wind
a frail leaf, withered brown and long gone
And never once mourned.



 

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