For my daughters Micah-Sophia and Rory Sarah
I’m fighting normal. I’m choreographing
this other dance, where you spin across
the floor and out the door while the other
kids are still jumping on the spot, popping up
to learn ballet. From an outsider’s eye,
you might call ours the dancing raccoon disco,
or perhaps we are the hip hop squirrel brigade.
The slippery salmon lovers of clouds? Or are we
the bears who hold up signs saying, Will work
for honey and funk! Find your totem.
There is no tradition I will hold you to.
What I’m saying is that I want you to keep moving
and I don’t care if it is in your body or your mind.
When the other kids pirouette, you are already
gone. You’ve sold your tutu and moved to Amsterdam.
You have woken on a beach in Vanuatu
and when the person you love says, I love you,
you have the confidence to say, I love me too
and that’s why I can love you back
ferociously in the language of red.
It’s simple really: I want to give you both the gift of yes.
The door is open and even though we are supposed to stay,
we are spinning across the floor
in violation of expectation and structure.
What I’m saying is: go barefoot. Or walk out
with a handstand. Live in possibility
and in constant proximity to desire.
Don’t just dream; burn your dreams.
Heat your life with that fire.