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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Poem about a girl, Naiya, who could only dance. Story based poem.

Submitted: May 09, 2007

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Submitted: May 09, 2007



Naiya hated the name Naiya.

She thought it sounded plastic and fake.

She wanted to be called something else.

Cranberry is a nice name, she mused.


Naiya drank water for breakfast

Because she believed she was fat.

Naiya was wrong though,

No one with the width of a shadow

And the frame of an ocean could be overweight.

No one had taught her to swallow, either.

She only knew how to dance.

Doomsday came and went like a midday television special

But she just danced with her eyes slightly closed.

The civilizations of man fell to dust and decay,

Ruined beyond repair, but Naiya spun and spun.


She danced in the whirls of the sun,

The pirouettes of the moon,

The arches of the earth.

She danced on the same soil that we all danced on.

We used to relate to her.

We used to know her,

Used to ask,

"Naiya, why do you dance?"


She'd laugh, no she'd cackle.

Sometimes she'd choke on laughter.

Sometimes the laughter would come in raging floods

Of hiccupping slanted smiles and grins.

It'd cascade down her face

And out her mouth in sound;

Not pleasant but very healthy.


"But really, why do you dance?"

She'd stop laughing then and look at our group,

Each one of us,


Turning around, she'd kick dirt

In our faces and mouths and eyes.

Once the dust had cleared,

Once we'd blinked, spat, and snorted the soot out of our heads,

We'd scan the horizons for any tornadoes,

Any earthquakes,

Any flash floods of giggles.

Where people fell Naiya danced.

It wasn't a victory.


Skin from bone, she tied her hands in knots and shook,

Not nervous in the least; just subdued.

She picked at her fingers and the rivers ran dry.

The clouds above came tumbling down,

Crashing into the oceans, getting just about everybody wet.

It was okay, however,

The people had towels, just in case.


"I wish we were farmers!

I wish we knew how!"

Were her first words as she danced

On boneless legs with a sensitive spine,

Inside her mother's womb.


Big as a peanut, the cities fell down to the ground

While she stamped her feet and clenched her fists.

She wasn't angry but she knew what she wanted.

She let the plants grow as she out-spun the sun,

But stepped on them accidentally when she tore after the stars.

Too much light, or some such nonsense.

The daffodils didn't agree,

The poppies were furious,

But nightshade was ecstatic.


She did try hard, inhumanly hard.

She put her soul into it.

But she got nothing,

Nothing at all,

Nothing ever out of it.

She tried for an entire lifetime and was rewarded with nothing.

She danced because that's how she lived,

She danced with everything she had.

She danced from the moment she was born

To the day man died.


She finished, with grace, the last twirl,

The last elegant arch of her hand,

The last blind glance,

The last dancing movement,

And stood as still as the earth around her.


She opened one eye, closed the other.

Half of her cried because all around her there was nothing.

Half of her laughed because after all that living,

All that dancing, all that effort, she was still blind.

And a little tiny piece inside of her,

That little piece that was neither part of her

Nor part of anything else,

That little bit of Naiya that was really all Naiya was,

Let out a great sigh.


She was tired. She'd danced till the last day.

She'd put her soul right down into it,

And now had nothing left.

Under the cloudless, lightless, moon-stitched sky,

Where the grass had stopped growing,

And the flowers were all dead,

Naiya stopped dancing for the first time in history.

Under that antique, orphaned expanse,

Naiya laid her body down,

Closed her body's eyes,

And slept.

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