The Beauty and Pain of Ballet

For most of my life, ballet was a part of me. I loved it, and I hated it. And I knew it, but I forgot what it was like until I came across this old poetry. I no longer see the world the way I saw it then. But it's still all true. What I couldn't understand was the appeal as I read my description. Back then, I saw both the pain and beauty in things. They're no longer one in the same. Pain used to be numbingly routine for me and was the standard. Now pain has washed away that it no longer agonizes me. But at a time when pain would paralyze me, I couldn't see the appeal until I had my epiphany. My life, then, was unbearable, full of pain, and I hated it, but it's also all that I knew. Ballet offered that familiarity but also a beauty that I never had before.

We are light as a feather
We are of grace and beauty
Our arms are like branches on a tree
They may never droop
Our body must drift along gracefully
As if being pulled by some string
Slowly gliding along the stage
All we must show is perfection
Our body being light as a feather
Being carried along
Confidence must be carried in our high necks
Our legs must be sturdy
They must lift up gently into the sky in all directions
And the whole time we will always remain balanced
This is the true body of a ballerina
We will show no strain or effort of any kind
We must act like we are flying
All along we will conceal our pain
Our heavy body feeling as if it's being weighed down as more seconds go by
Our uncomfortable necks feeling paralyzed
Our stiff arms feeling like they are stones
Our legs throbbing of pain
Our bleeding toes balancing on a block of wood
Full of fresh, sharp pain
The blisters forming at the tips of our toes
The bruses forming all around our feet
And everything just starts feeling like they're swelling so much
You feel like your feel will burst
And your legs will turn into crumbs
And you're ready to fall on your head
This is what ballet is all about
Pain and torture
Grace, balance, flexibility, endurance, and beauty
All in one box
To be a ballerina, you must be flexible in all ways
Without holding onto anything
Just hope
But not all is slow and flexible
It's also full of fast-acting pain which builds endurance
Agonizing jumps being done over and over and over
Quickly and quietly
In all sorts of speeds, counts, and forms
And different varieties of combinations
Ballet is Heaven and Hell put together
Ballet is Hell
And the ballerina is a lovely angel from Heaven