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The Last Dance

Story ID:7895
Written by:Gabrielle Eve Blair (bio, contact, other stories)
Story type:Poem
Location:Toronto, Ontario Canada
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I wrote this poem when I visited my dancer friend for the last time in hospital. "The Dance Goes On" refers to the name of the performance which was the last time we performed together.


Nothing prepared me for the change.
Quick! Shift the scene!
Roll back the years: "The Dance Goes On".
Lithe limbs, long lines, space claimed.
Oh lovely, lanky one! Oh Dancer!

Now, straight-spined you sit,
Propped up in bed. Immobile legs lie still, unused.
And yet defying death, you will ... the life goes on.

Gaunt faced and yellow,
Lips cracked and scabbed,
Eyes huge blue pools, unchanged,
From there your spirit shines.
Stick arms and fingers carve the lines,
So little left as illness takes its toll,
Strips flesh from bone ...
Life's loosening its hold.

What's left? Sweet memories bold
Of rhythmic beats, of music and the dance,
Like life, one moment there, then quickly gone.
A brief connection. It's memory that lives on.