TITLE: The Dance Instructor
By Joyce Poet
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The Dance Instructor
The Lord and I take the studio alone,
as He trains me to dance with the partner
who waits patiently behind the curtains.
The motions have become more
and more natural to me;
We've been dancing this dance a long while.
In a few, fluid steps,
we are in the center of wide-open space,
gliding to the sounds of angelic hosts.
He lifts me to perch high on His right shoulder,
where my right hand rests;
My eyes and my left palm stretch toward the sky.
One turn of my body, so fluid that
whether He turned me or I turned myself
and I face Him. His strong hands let me back down,
slowly, gracefully, to my feet,
and we stand face-to-face for that eternal second.
My tiny hand in His, I lose myself
in the spin. All is perfect.
And, suddenly, the music stops.
Once again, (prayerfully for the last time),
I stumble awkwardly backwards, afraid
He'll not catch me in His arms when I fall.
The Teacher stands before me, so tall,
so strong: "My Beloved, if you do not
trust Me, how will you ever trust him?"
And with one command: "Let the music
begin," we are all the way back to the beginning,
to those first, most fluid steps.
With one deep breath,
I complete the spin; He never let go of my hand;
And I fall back into the arms of Christ.
All the world disappears, my eyes closed
in complete trust. He holds the small of my back.
One foot points knowingly toward the sky,
while the other slightly lifts off the ground
and my own arms dangle freely at my sides,
all of my weight in His hands.
It is our time to dance, Love.
I trust the Master of Ceremonies
to have taught you well.
Because I trust Him, I will gladly place my hand
in yours. But you must first stretch out your palm
in expectance of mine.
© Joyce Pool
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