Dance inspires me to write poetry...and my poetry sets the dance in motion.
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“Life’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts.”
— William Shakespeare As You Like It Act II, Scene 7
Playing the Part
I think that I am true to myself
And yet within the context of “self”
I play many varied and sometimes
Conflicting roles in this pantomime.
Some of these roles were delegated
To me since no one else wanted them.
Or because I was a “natural”
Others of them I auditioned for,
Begged, connived, negotiated for,
Or took by sword, might and willfulness.
Life is one endless succession of
Auditions, rehearsals, openings,
Closings and also extended runs.
With each day I have choices to make.
I can work for the roles I want most.
I can wait and see what comes to me.
I can hide in corner and watch,
Hoping that the director doesn’t see me.
Over time I have done each of these.
I imagine that I will again.
At times I have so yearned for one part
That I have embodied it into
The very core of my existence.
I have felt the emotion, the pain,
The exuberance and the passion
Until I knew it could not but be my own.
Sometimes even that was not enough
For the role had already been cast,
The director’s vision clashed with mine
Or someone wanted it even more.
There have been times when I was crippled
By fear, and blown the whole audition.
Times that I, victorious, have won
The part, to fail miserably in
The ensuing performance of it.
Still other times when I just forgot
To set my alarm and missed my chance.
But opportunity knocks again
And I vow to myself I will not
Give in and be a mere observer.
Now here’s the challenge greatest by far:
Those roles I have played year after year
Can become a yoke and a drudgery
So that I crave to break free of them
And play another for just a while.
But a professional knows just how
To make each performance fresh, alive
And exciting as it was at first
On opening night, so long ago.
And it is so that I know I can do.
Sometimes I have felt success so near
I could taste its sweetness on my tongue,
Felt the heat of spotlights and the rush
Of the adrenaline as my blood
Pulses through my veins to the sound
Of thunderous applause and cheering.
Only to awaken from my dream
And find myself waiting in the wings
Doomed to the agony of being
The understudy to my rival.
Second best is not enough for me.
‘Til I force my mind to come around.
Understudying a master is a
Gift stuffed full of opportunity.
I am not out of work entirely,
And although it is not glorious
“Understudy” holds within its bounds
The seeds of hope, of growth of pleasure
Of fantasy, patience, discipline,
Motivation and introspection.
As my life experience deepens
I have more soul to share and to spare
To carry forth into every role.
The next audition will be here soon
My eyes are open, my heart beats yet.—©2004 Shahina
To my old and new friends at Wilderness Trails Ranch
Somethin' Magical
There's somethin' magical about the west,
The cool, crisp freshness of the morning air,
The vastness of the plains and the deserts,
The proud, silent majesty of the mountains,
The dazzling starriness of clear night skies,
The utter darkness of the moonless nights,
The delicate sweetness of the wildflowers
Covering the trails, parks and hillsides,
The colors of sunset on the desert.
There's somethin' magical about seeing
It all while sitting astride a good horse
The thudding of hooves caressing my ears
That makes me wonder why anythin' else
Exists, or why I should care that it does.
There's somethin' magical 'bout a cowboy.
The way he gazes out under his hat,
The way he swaggers in his heeled boots,
The trail dust caked upon his slim cut jeans,
The roughness of his hands from real hard work,
Yet beneath that roughness I do observe
A certain gentleness in the way he
Handles his horse or plays games with his dog
That lets a woman know that his heart is warm.
There's somethin' about the cowboy's manners,
The way he tips his hat to say, "Yes ma'am,"
The way he swings a lady 'round the dance
Floor with a touch as soft as kid skin and
Yet as firm as a grandma's mind made up,
That makes my whole insides melt just like a
Chunk of beeswax on a blazing bonfire.
I do believe that if I was in trouble,
Great, big, disaster-like difficulty,
I'd want to have a cowboy in it with me
To fix things up the way they ought to be.—©2004 Shahina
To my loving family on Valentine’s Day 2005
Labyrinth
We are mere humans,
each doing the best that we are able,
moment by moment,
to navigate the Labyrinth of this world.
Not always doing the best that we know how to do,
but the best we are able to at each blink of the eye.
If only we could each do, at all times,
only the best we know,
then we should all be standing on the mountain,
one with our Creator,
and things of this Earth should have passed away.
Alas, 'tis not so,
therefore I love and bless you
as we pass along the way
and I ask your forgiveness if I have failed
to do the best that I know for you today.—©2005 Shahina
Macbeth
The walls are closing in, tighter and tighter.
You feel that you are slowly suffocating.
They are apparent now, but they have been there
Steadily inching forward, undetected,
(Or perhaps ignored?) by you for quite some time.
My Lord, MacBeth, now see that
Burnham Wood has indeed come to Dunsinane.
Will you fight, my Lord? And whom do you oppose?
What demons concealed lurk behind the boughs
That tiptoe through your head, obscuring your divinity?
Know you their names? Know you their faces?
Know you their cunning, their strength of force, their means?
Look well upon their countenances now
And see them truly- fear, vanity, pride
Arrogance, deceit, weakness, self-delusion,
Shame, sloth, others perhaps as well?
You had allies once upon a time,
But the cunning of your foe is great and now
They have been separated, cut-off from you.
But rejoice, my lord, for they be not dead
Nor have they turned against you in your need.
They watch, they wait, they hope, they pray, they dream,
And they love you unconditionally
But you must lead the charge, you alone unmask your foes.
You alone have power to defeat them.
You alone can see them for it is only
In your own mirror that they appear
Arise, MacBeth, for Duncan lives and breathes yet
But you must awaken to end your nightmare.—©2005 Shahina
Familiar Stranger
Your words paint pictures in my mind
Enticing images draw into focus.
You tell me things and I believe
The words that tell me who you are.
More the fool am I, so naive in the ways of your kind.
Your empty words are but a mask
Of your own creation and design,
Projecting the image that you desire me to hold of you.
Disguising who you really are.
Please, doff the mask, spare me the show.
Sincerity becomes you more,
And I am wiser than I was.—©2005 Shahina