Let's Dance--by Mary Powell

I asked Joy if her friend and Texas writer, Mary Powell, would allow me to share this poem with you.  It beautifully captures a lovely relationship between a girl and her father swaying to Big Band music of the Forties--and the world ahead and challenges he would never have imagined.  

Let’s Dance

“Let’s dance,” he said

and reached down to  lift me 

into place, white-stockinged feet

positioned on shiny black oxfords.

And I wanted to dance away.

“Wait, wait,” he said,

“First we sway to the music.”

A big band played on the radio.

Slowly he stepped out

his arms and body guiding,

showing me the pattern

embracing the rhythm.

And when I wanted to go faster

he whispered this reminder,

“A lady never leads,” he told me,

“You always follow your partner.” 

He taught what seemed right to him,

something a daughter should know,

never imagining the world ahead

the challenges that lay in store

dances without partners

music without melody

partners gone astray

ladies leading.

I’ve danced across a lifetime since - 

tapping on stages, waltzing with beaus, 

Folk dances, Latin, The Monkey, The Fox Trot,

partnered and alone, following, and leading.

I’ve celebrated weddings, full moons, birthdays, and rain,

filled with the irresistible joy of moving to the beat, 

recalling the wonder of his feet, beneath mine,

praising whatever Gods may be for this precious gift.

I learned to dance at my father’s knee,

my white-stockinged feet nested

firmly on his shiny black oxfords

while we swayed to a big band 

that played from a small box radio.

“A lady never leads,” he whispered,

“You must always follow your partner.”

He taught me to listen to the music,

until my feet could hear the beat,

to stand tall, inclining toward him,

mirroring arms, shoulders, and hips.

He broke the dance into pieces for me,

into tiny bites of something so rich

I would savor it for the rest of my days.