From time to time, I have been posting a poem from my book The Human Hive. This one is taken from Part 5, ‘States of Mind’:
She turns and takes a final look at the room:
the mirrors across the wall, the well-sprung floor.
If you ignore the lights, it’s like a womb
where music finds embodiment in dance.
Re-living the last half-hour, she shuts the door.
What did they think of that?
This was the feared audition, the longed-for chance.
Those weeks, let’s say the years, of preparation
had worked their alchemy: as though entranced
her mind and the music fused, her body became
line and shape, gesture, and lightness of motion.
Surely they will recognise, at last,
my true potential?
She feels so alive! She wants, she needs, this same
exhilaration daily in her life,
to burst out from the chrysalis…
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