Dancing From Dust To Dust

DANCING FROM DUST TO DUST

Standing on the once green grass, she stand staring into space.
Face blank to the earth but mind awake to the soul.
She shades her eyes and gazes around. Black, blank, dead, everything
dead. Her connection to the place she grew up on is dead. Wiping away
another tear she takes another step, so does her mind

It seemed like yesterday that she was chasing butterflies around the
fresh green crops, or dancing, in the rain.

As the dust gets heavier, so does her memories.

She kneels down and feels the rough, cracked marks on the drought blown
creek. Her memories rush in, as water flows down the creek. That was a
time of laughter. Unlike her butterflies she never caught her dream.

Suddenly she feels a warm, hand and a familiar voice. She turns around
to be found facing her father. “Don’t give up”. He then disappears.
She knows he’s gone back up there with poppa. She wipes away more tears.
More fall on her face. Looking above. She repeats
“thankyou”. For the first time in fifteen years, she starts to dance.

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