I have known for a long time
this longing.

Legs twitching, body twisting,
trying to keep it still, trying to get it to behave.

In the spirit of experimentation
because there was ‘purpose’, ‘good reason’, because it was ‘for… something’

I was finally able to make myself do it.
I was finally able to let myself do it.

Dance, that is.

I procrastinated for an hour
Cleaned the house like my mother was coming
Frantically doing laundry
washing up
clothes away, the bedroom floor tidy for the first time in weeks
floor swept, counters wiped,
and so on.

With ten minutes to go I gave myself a good talking to.

JUST FUCKING DO IT
(was about the extent of it).

A random queer playlist, hit shuffle, volume loud, kitchen door open, sunshine streaming in, table pushed back, big empty space.

I danced. Fifteen seconds in the first wave came up through my body
I was sobbing
moved through it
breathed through it

I threw the weirdest shapes
got out of my head
let my body lead
fucking strange sensation
for the one who said “my heart is in my head”
when I was courting.

Another wave, tears, gulping, sobs, the floor wet, my feet wet, my chest
keep moving, keep breathing
another, then another,
one time I had to stop, holding myself up breathless on the countertop

then onwards. Let go. Dance again. Keep moving, keep breathing. Let go. Just dance.

From time to time the thoughts came. The judgements. The embarrassment. The self-hatred. And the movements got smaller, stiffer, less wild
less fun. Then back to body, back to shapes and who knows what.

Back to tidal waves of tears, rushing up from my gut, from my heart.

I don’t remember what I did.