When the Child Dances
~ Ambika Talwar

So the child dances,
engrossed in her body’s notes
wild and happy—more
Intent than one can know.

When we awake in the morning,
we stand at the window. Look at the sun
It, too, dances on treetops, filters through
life as her eyes eager focused and demanding.

And when I am late for the dance,
child’s eyes accuse me of negligence—
Like we do the sun when greyed clouds
overhang heavy and full of pathos.

Now I am on time for the dance
as when she wishes to dance.
For my music is all over the place—
especially, uncoiling in that hiding heart of mine,

and even in all our tears,
for life’s sumptuous eternal longing—
the quiet sad spaces that are filled
with the joy of dance itself.

That is all there is—the dance,
the way the child dances it.
And when I dance this way? The sun squeezes
through the all-eternal darkness.

So the child, she dances!
Whirling through dark shadows
like swirling shafts of light
neither this nor that—just wild with glee!

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