Little studio filled with women
Wooden floor cool on my feet
and me in my tie-dyed T-shirt

The rhythmic music feels alive
Pulsing warm through my ears
Strangely familiar and intoxicating

She says that every woman
Has a dance inside her, somewhere
I genuinely believe her

My hips seem to forget
they have born children
they have marks and scars

My arms remember to alight
From sessions of ballet
For a big girl to be graceful

My feet take a minute
Trying to find comfort
then realizing this is restful

My shoulders start to burn
As my arms are held outward
Moving in the dance

The mirrors are harsh
As they always are
And I catch my reflection

Oddly I see a woman
Lots of women in the mirror
All trying to release their bodies

Into the joyful bliss
of moving freely, sensually
with the lilting song in the air

My body seems to follow
the waves of their bodies
swaying effortlessly, fluidly

She asks us to bring a scarf
To accentuate the hips
That I have long been trying to hide

And inside I smiled
This may have been
The medicine my soul needed.