The Dance

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

At sunrise
she began to dance

so that humanness

would seep back
into the earth,
into the lowest
parts of the earth.

She danced for
the murdered
and missing,
the lost and forsaken.

Then,
she danced
all through the night
for the inhumanness

that filled her heart,

for the hatred and lack of love
that had captured her.

She danced and danced
until inhumanity

drained out of her,
out of the farthest parts
of the earth,

until the sun
came back to the world.

12 Comments

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Poetry

12 responses to “The Dance

  1. Ah, Yes!!!

    Perhaps I need to dance today!

    I shall think of your poem on those days when dancing is necessary.

    David

  2. Mirada

    This is very moving, my eyes filled reading it. By the way, Betty says you and Thomas were asking about me–so here I am, new name, new place. She tells me you’re settled in Wisconsin now–I hope things are well, all of life considered. God bless you.

  3. So glad to hear from you. Tom had an all clear from cancer. We hope it sticks. Love the forests and water here. Ethel

  4. Oh yes, Ethel – yes, yes! I want to join you in that dance. This is so beautiful!

  5. Cathartic dancing; exquisite writing, my dear Ethel, as usual…

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