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Ballet Dancing

by James Zealy

Clumsiness is my gift of grace
As I meander one step at a time
Through day to day fire fighting
Where I am my own biggest obstacle

While I attempt ballerina artistry
Instead I fall head over heels
To the next issue I have to face
My unique awkward pirouette
Is akin to a water fed gristmill
That never stops, never quits

Its simplicity and persistence
Has a beauty of its own
That belies the slow grinding
Never ending process of
performing what is necessary
Every second, every minute,
Every hour, every day,
Every week, Every month,
Every year

It is art that feels complacent
Yet is not
Where the steady intensity
Needed to complete each turn
Has no flash yet accomplishes
A needed task that has no glamour

Its steady grinding ferocity
Whispers its own victory
That is self fulfilling
Where applause is not needed
To complete the next turn of its wheel

It relishes in its obscurity
That captures glances
Where no one feels its significance
Until the wheel makes its last turn

06/21/2015

Posted on 06/21/2015
Copyright © 2018 James Zealy

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 06/22/15 at 03:22 AM

Liked this a lot. You've turned that pirouette into something visual but intensely meaningful on many levels. "My unique awkward pirouette Is akin to a water fed gristmill That never stops, never quits" - such a fascinating mix of worlds. There's something very satisfying about that second to last stanza, as though I am pushed to continue to strive. Thanks for this!

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 06/23/15 at 07:29 PM

I agree with Kristina. Great opening stanza pulled me in to its whirling dervish. A serious but fun read just the same, and so easy to relate to.

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