Africa, aGING, Dance, Disability, Dreams, Elders, Health Care, Latin beat, Music, Old Age, Poetry, Salsa


© PJ Hayward
New York 2014


I feel the music

that pounding rhythm..


Oh yessss…

The drums… The drums……….

that Latin beat….

that Afro beat….

the throbbing…..pounding…… in the air

through the floor

infecting my feet

like electricity…

it flows like lightning through my body

 I am on fire……..  

Someone feels my heat and grabs my hand

We are whirling




heads thrown back

with hair flying

lips crying

“Ai ai ai ai!!!!”

Now we are no longer dancing……

we are soaring

we are flaming

we are airborne


we sear the floor while barely touching it

our torrid bodies winding

around each other

in flight

we are ablaze….

It is ecstasy….

I awake. 

I see my well-worn cane

leaning on the nightstand

I see my walker standing in its accustomed place

against my bedroom wall

It was all a dream

A dream of joyful Dance gone by

A dream of rapture known so long ago

When youth and health were mine

4 thoughts on “DANCE”

    1. Thank you Rose. Yes, one of the most painful sorrows of becoming disabled is no longer being able to dance. Outside of motherhood, dancing has been one of the greatest joys of my life. When you are dancing you are transported to another world and you just become one with the music and the percussion. One of my greatest griefs and sorrows is that I have lost the ability to move with the sounds that used to transform me. I dream of dancing all the time. And I dream of running and walking without my cane. Its probably the only thing that depresses me.


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