Categories
Poetry

The Last Dance

By Smitha Vishwanath

I see it steal the lead

break away

and pirouette-

a dancing ballerina

swirling on the open stage,

a Turkish dervish

whirling to a melody I cannot hear,

I strain my ear

.

I watch still

as it pauses

for a beat

It seems forever

and then a final ghoomar*

before it gracefully sways

and lands

nimbly, on the terra-firma.

.

My heart applauds

the performance-

‘The last dance’

Before it bites the dust

joining the rest

who fell before it

after doing their bit

Of living,

.

breathing

giving to the world

now lying dried and curled

on the earth’s bed-

yellow, brown, orange, green and red

united, irrespective.

.

*ghoomar – Rajasthani dance involves twirling of dancers

Folk dance from Rajashthan, Ghoomar

.

Smitha Vishwanath is a banker turned writer. A management professional, she embarked on the writing journey in 2016, with her blog, https://lifeateacher.wordpress.com, while still heading the regional Cards Operations of a bank. After having worked for almost two decades in senior roles in the banking industry, in the Middle East, she quit and returned to India in July 2018 when her husband was transferred on an assignment. Her poems and articles have been published in various anthologies. In July 2018, she co-authored a book of poetry: Roads – A Journey with Verses. Other than writing, she enjoys reading, travelling, and painting.

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL.

3 replies on “The Last Dance”

Hi Smitha, a few words very deeply blending the east with the west.. leaving us a message the celebration of life,the festival carry same spirit across geography for all.

Liked by 1 person

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