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
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