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

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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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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.
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Excellent poem. Through the famous Rajasthani dance, it conveys so much about life, its joys, and the final rest. Great.
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This is a beautiful poem by a talented writer.
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