Don't stop dancing

Author's note: this poem was written for a specific prompt- I was asked to write a piece as a response to another piece I wrote as the person that I wrote it about. The following is my interpretation of my grandmother's response to my piece called Babushka.




Granddaughter, you are now a young woman
that I remember so well as just a little girl in flowery dresses at easter time
and black velvet outfits during Christmas.
Our relationship thrived during the holidays
when multiple families were crowded in the living room and the kitchen
but the children were always running around and exploring
up and down the stairs
inside the house and out on the balconies
weaving through the obstacles of legs that belonged to mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, grandmothers and grandfathers
and your grandfather would act like a child
chasing you all around like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk
the house was filled with the smells of cooking and the sounds of catching up conversations that appeared so spontaneously and sounded like sweet melodies
family gatherings are just relatives creating poetry without writing anything down.

I remember your little legs, granddaughter
always moving even when you sat down
kicking and thumping at the edge of the chair
or tucked up underneath your body
like you had to put your whole weight on them in order to get them to hold still
always running, spinning, jumping, or dancing
I hope you never stop dancing.
Even if there is no music, let your heart sink down into your feet
and feel the rhythm in your toes
let it carry you away from all the worries of daily life
whisk you away into a floating fantasy land
where your only partner is your happiness.
If you are lucky enough to find a person who can dance to your rhythm
hold him close
and know that it's just as much fun to fly around the dance floor like your feet are made of the clouds
as it is to sway slowly, pressed cheek to cheek
hand to hand
and most importantly,
heart to heart

I'm smiling down on you, you know.
I think you can feel me, some days
when the sun kisses your face softly
and the breeze is at your back
gently nudging you forward
and your lungs pull in all the life that surrounds you
and you'll see my grace in the butterflies and hear my laughter in the spring sparrow's song

So i'll leave you with this last thought
Always stay hungry for more
have an appetite for knowledge and greatness that you never allow to be satisfied
read quietly when you get the chance
but don't forget that change is made by raising your voice
and while you'll find that change is inevitable
my presence will remain constant
I'm part of the heartbeat baseline that you'll find yourself moving to
a steady rise and fall of your chest that fits in time
with a universal rhthym,
know that I'm there.
know that I'm here.
so even if your feet get tired
if your legs get weak
or your heart gets heavy
keep them light with hope for a fresh start tomorrow morning
and I hope that you never stop dancing.