This was a Shumate exam for "Beat! Beat! Drums!". She liked it, so here it is.
Cry! People! Cry! - Sound! Siren! Sound!
Cry! People! Cry! - Sound! Siren! Sound!
Cry! People! Cry! - Sound! Siren! Sound!
Through the peace- through the calm- wake us from our ignorant sleep,
Wake the schools, and disrupt the teaching
Wake the church, make the congregation ask their god "Why?";
Leave not one child untouched- who in childhood innocence cannot understand,
Nor one state of the union at peace of mind, once thinking we were untouchable,
How your cries pierce the air you people- so loud do you sirens sound
"Over the traffic of cities"- over the sound of horns beeping in fury;
Was it a workplace as common as others? On that day it became a grave,
No ease of mind- no joy or smiles- would they soon return?
Would the gossipers go on gossiping? "would the singer attempt to sing?"
Would laughter once again rise above the mournful sorrow that has befallen?
Then more sorrowful cry the people- you sirens shriller sound
Make no bargain- stop for no chance of compromise,
"Mind not the timid- mind not the weeper or the prayer,"
Mind not the teacher schooling the children,
Let not a joyful voice cry out, nor silence the widow washing the ground with tears,
Make even those who never cared before tremble at the sound of the news,
So mournful does your cries sound, O people- so strong you sirens blow
The dancer moves about the stage.
She depicts a story
with words she does not speak.
Her effortless,
graceful movements
float her on the air
and ride her upon the music
as she stays true to it’s beat.
She flies and soars
on melodies and harmonies.
To the onlookers point of view,
the dance seems as easy as pie.
Inside she cries silently
in desperation.
A world of chaos and confusion
exists within.
On part concentrates upon each step
and keeps time with her heartbeat.
The other is focused on the pain all to real.
Her feet scream in agony
Her sweat steams down like tears.
Her body,
sucked of every drop of energy,
runs on fumes and adrenaline
that strongly flows a river
through her tired body.
It is the only thing
keeping her from collapsing
into a huddled mass
on the “sacred” stage floor.
Yet,
somehow,
the dancer finds sanctuary
in this torture.
To her it is the complete opposite.
It is joy.
All of the days weighted troubles
are lifted off through the dance;
carried away by the music.