My Dance

I watch them dance the dance designed for me

Bending and moving and loving the moment.

The dance that I was promised

that I longed for.

Like watching with my nose pressed against a glass pane

I long for what I deserve

For what I want.

This dance should be mine.

Each stretch of the arm, each turn of the head was written for me.

This dance was promised to me.

I long to dance.

To feel the freedom of these movements.

These movements that were designed for me - promised to me.

My bag is in hand, my shoes have been wet and broken

All for the sake of this dance.

This dance that is no longer mine.

This dance that once held wonder and magic and mystery in my eyes

Now evokes anger, bitterness, and longing.

Will I ever dance this dance the way I once longed to?

Will that dance be one of joy

Or one of triumph.

I pray the former.

He wrote the dance

Paraded the dance in front of me

Included me in its design.

And now I watch as he changes each piece of it.

I am an afterthought.

Do I even want to dance this dance that was once designed for me

Or was the moment lost?