The Dance of Grief by Robert A. Kidd

The Dance of Grief

I dance the dance of grief.
I am not attractive; I am not at my best.
I may step on your toes.
But I cannot help that.
I must dance the dance of grief.
And I am slow. Very slow.
You may wish I would speed up.
I wish to G-d that I could,
But no, I cannot.
I must dance the dance of grief.
My dance is not graceful in its slowness,
But torturous.
The dance overcomes me sometimes and nearly rips me apart.
The slowness almost kills me,
Draining me bit
By
Bit,
Leaving me a ghost.
Be my partner.
Let me lead.
Bow when I bow,
Turn when I turn,
Stop when I stop.
Move with me around the perimeter of the dance floor.
See with me the noisy spectators,
Those who say they want to be my partner
But cannot be,
Will not be.
I will not choose them for this dance.
They want this dance to be quick, efficient, romantic,
Somehow fulfilling their expectations.
But it cannot be that.
I cannot be that.
I must dance the dance of grief
And it is slow. Very slow.
In my way, I am regal as I dance this dance.
I hold my head up; wrap the black veil over my shoulders
And lead off.
Can you follow me? Will you?
Bow with me,
Turn with me,
Walk this leaden promenade with me?
But when the time comes…and only when…
Remind me that I did not invent this dance,
But have choreographed it to suit me.
Reassure me that I am dancing well.
Help me see that others have danced this dance before me,
Are dancing it now,
Will dance it later.
Much of this dance I know I must dance alone.
But for now, dance with me.
Hold me.
Be patient.
Dance with me until the music stops.
Believe me that I wish this dance was over.
But for now, I must dance the dance of grief.
And I am slow.
Be my partner.