By Dorothea Barth ©2010
As a girl I shunned the sword
I'd heard what it could wreak
Frail homeland wounded by a war
Destroyed the good and meek
The sword tried on a different cloak
A more seductive guise
Blade to a youthful chalice
Where passions might arise
And as such fervor flowed and ebbed
The sword sought plans anew
Consort with me in wisdom
I'll cut to what is true!
When insight led to movement
When wisdom bade me dance
The sword sprang forth enlivened
Bestowed a gleaming glance
Thus I beheld a balanced sword
Its urge to cut had fled
And yet it made me bolder
When perched atop my head
Chifte telle pulsing
Mysterious and strong
My dance for Melpomene
My sword dancing along
The sword bestows the drama
The hands bestow the grace
The hips, they bring the beat to life
The eyes the mood embrace
Our dance spins to ecstatic close
And sword and I depart
A few split hairs my sacrifice
A gift to dancing's art
Photo of author as sword dancer by Kathleen Thomson.
Copyright 2009 Dorothea Barth. All rights reserved.