Dancing, I Carry The Barren



       In the middle of the class
                on the floor, dancing
                suddenly I remember the child.

       O where is my child?

       A voice breaks through the air
                which only I hear
                but everyone stops dancing.

       Am I not barren?

       Music urges me on.
                My feet, head, heart bear
                the stone which keeps beating.

       My child is not here.
                My child is not dancing.
                Dancing I carry the barren.


        ~
Jan Michelson