there better be Dancing in heaven

there better be Dancing in heaven
februari 3, 2022 ingeborg



I love Dancing
because I’m
so fearlessly
terrible at it

I have zero natural
rhythm but that never
stops me from moving
my rump in such
a gawky manner
that would indicate to
anybody watching
from a distance that
I likely just sat on
an active beehive

my Dancing is a casserole
of wild pelvic thrusts
and pouring sweat that
feature a healthy amount of
~ Reckless Floundering
with a dash of
~ Untamed Folly
and a couple sprinkles of
~ Sweet Prancing Flubber

I’ve been told by esteemed
mystics that my Dancing
has been known to be
so untamed and wild that
it tears open the thin
veil that separates us
from the spirit world

my movements are said
to be so unhinged that
it invites the ghosts
that only I can see
to put on their
astral ballroom shoes
and to Dance with me
until we all fade into the
first light spilling over
predawn sky like it
is celestial milk

~ my Salsa is anything but mild
~my Samba will make you cry to your mama
~my Hustle is proof that the laws of physics can be bent
~ my Jive is an element of slow motion magic and sweat

there is no bad day
that a deep pounding bass
and a little space for me to spin
my Boogie Woogie
around like it’s cotton candy
can’t cure

~ you can have your Roomba
I’ll take my Rumba
~ you can visit Nova Scotia
I’m vacationing in Bossa Nova
~ while you are sleeping your eight hours
I’ll be Waltzing under a waxing moon
~ your bar hoping
will never trump my Lindy hoping

my smile is at it’s stretchiest
the more I move my feet
and shake my middle-aged ass

Dancing takes my
natural introversion
and buries it under
the Dance Floor

I spend my days parsing
my words and guarding my
thoughts like they are the queen

but when I’m Dancing
~oh, when I’m Dancing

there is nobody watching the door
there is no splitting hairs
there is not a single moment of hesitation
it’s all pop
and no can stop
it’s all shag
and no drag
it’s all groove
with nothing to prove

I live my non-dancing life
so cautiously

I constantly hear the voice in my ear:
“careful where you step, John,
don’t land on anybody’s toes
look where you’re going
what will people think, John?
don’t do anything to draw attention
take a break, John,
you’re a punchline, John,
go sit down, John,
you’re embarrassing yourself”

but when I’m Dancing
~ oh, but when I’m Dancing…

the music
and my heartbeat
evict those lies
from my head

I become a late day thunderstorm
of booming feet and lighting gyrations

I am an
insatiable whirl
~ a blur of short legs and ravenous eyes
without a single care given
about what You or I think
because there is no thinking

when I Dance
there is just constant movement

~ it’s unrehearsed joy
it’s a celebration of raw carelessness
it’s the public display of my knots being untied

I wish I lived
like I Danced

unashamed for how bad I am at it
unafraid of your judgement
unwilling to let a single misstep to slow me down
unburdened by any
concern for my past or future
and so very unstoppable

why is it the older we get
the less we Dance?
it seems like it should
be the opposite

I want my gray hair to
become the disco ball
I Boogie under

oh God,
as my skin
becomes thinner
and my veins become
bluer let my body turn
into a blaring
gospel of moving wonder

oh God,
keep the music
blasting on the Dance
Floor of my heart

oh God,
let my children
know me more for
my terrible Dancing
and less for my
masterful worrying

oh God,
let me be
more like Bacon
and less like Lithgow

oh God,
let my life
become an unpracticed
Two-Step that keeps starting
me on an adventure of infinite wonder

oh God,
there better
be Dancing in

because I’m bringing
the moves with me that
will make even Your
most devout
angels blush


By John Roedel




Image by Ruven Afanador