Dancing girl

There once was a girl dressed in linen and lace, dancing upon the stage.  Her laughter filled the air and her smile was infectious.  People stopped to watch, appreciating her grace and poise.  So many people came to see the girl that the ground before the stage became muddy.

One day, the girl was dancing as usual, when two boys came by.  They stood for awhile watching, then they pointed at the girl, laughing.  One picked up some of the mud at his feet and threw it at her.  His friend soon joined in.  The other people saw what was happening, but just smiled and shook their heads.  The girl was alright after all… See, she still danced.

The girl tried to wipe away the mud, but it had stained her linen and lace.  A single tear ran down her face as she looked at her ruined clothes.  No one else seemed to care, so why should she?  She was a big girl after all, so she kept on dancing.

The next day she returned to the stage as usual, but her clothes still bore the muddy stains.  Some men saw the stains, and knew what kind of girl she was… soiled and dirty.  They threw mud harder and faster.  They knew they could and she wouldn’t tell or moan.

This continued day after day.  More people began to threw mud, still she kept on dancing and smiling.

One day, another girl appeared on stage with her.  She stayed curled up in the corner, rocking.  The dancing girl ignored her, she knew the show must go on.  Then another girl appeared who could dance and not be hit by the mud.  One girl appeared who would scream and shout at the people, but no one paid her any attention.  Soon, the original dancing girl could no longer dance.  She could only stand in the middle of the stage waiting for the mud.  Her linen and lace was caked and she knew there was no way to get it off.

Far above, another girl watched the stage from the rafters.  She saw the different girls darting around, some trying to avoid the mud, some seeking it, some throwing it at each other.  She called out to the now frozen girl in the middle of the stage… “Come up here where it’s safe”.  It took days of coaxing, but one day the girl looked up and saw the clean girl far above.  The girl slowly climbed up to the clean girl.  She looked from the chaos below to the clean girl beside her.

“Do you want it all to go away?” asked the clean girl. “Then take my hand and we’ll fly away from here.  You’ll never have to see the mud again.”  Cautiously the dirty dancing girl reaches out to take the clean girls hand.  Looking at each other, smiling, they step from the rafters.

For a brief moment, the girls feel the giddy free-fall of flight, before crashing into the stage below.  The crowd is momentarily stunned, looking at each other in uncertainty.  But then a wise woman shakes her head telling the others “It’s always the quiet ones who fall”.

No one misses the dancing girl, there are plenty of others to take her place.

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8 thoughts on “Dancing girl

  1. I had to come back to this. It reminds me of me. People often think that because I’m a quiet person, I don’t have any feelings or I don’t hurt as much as someone else. They are so wrong.

  2. Thank you all for your comments. I’m out of touch with this piece of writing and what it meant for the young one who wrote it, so I’m not quite sure how to respond… But thank you for commenting.

    Take care,
    CG

  3. Dear Dancing Girl,

    Thank you for sharing this with us…you write beautifully…and are very articulate. You are extremely precious…and you matter…*a lot*. I’m sorry no one saw your pain…I’m sorry no one was there for you, to protect you and care for you…I’m sorry you didn’t have the life that you should have had–filled with the beauty, music, dance, and joy that you started with. But, despite the layers of caked-on madness, you still have it…you are still beautiful, and creative, and talented, and have so very, very much to offer. Your audience may be different than in the beginning–but, we *see YOU*–you are not invisible to us. We see your *true self*…you matter…*a lot*…and you are *not alone*. There are many of us, unfortunately, but we *know* the truth, the tragedy, the struggle, the pain, and the beauty that remains despite all efforts to snuff it out. Hang on, Dear Dancing Girl…please…for *this audience* applauds your bravery as well as your beauty, your courage in the crises…hang on…we care…you are loved.

    Linda.

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