Movement Is Her Medicine

She fluently moves across the floor as silently as dust Every muscle in her physique is on high alert to respond Her body is perfectly sculpted from the legs to the bust Painlessly lifting her weight by going above and beyond Her movements are spiritual and connect with her soul The slim arms were in sync, blending earth with the sky Bowing, bending, swaying to the music, still in control Fluttering and flapping symbolizing a monarch butterfly Working herself into a frenzy while turning and spinning As if pleading to life to give her a reprieve from misfortune Tired of losing to adversity that prevents her from winning Finally, collapsing in a heap on the floor from exhaustion A choreographed dance is a divine artistic act of expression It has become her medicine and the purest form of therapy The movement hopes to reduce anxiety, fear, and depression Though wearier than ever, for there is no cure for her malady