Burying My Dancing Shoes

I learned to dance.

Not really dancing - I'm still a klutz.

I wanted to learn how.

I did learn one dance.

But I learned to dance.

The freedom of a happy heart

hearing the quiet voice of God

singing over me in joy.

And my heart danced.

I danced in the sun.

I danced in the rain.

I danced in the storm - 

the quiet burdened dance of pain.

Today, I hurt too much to dance.

I don't think I ever want to dance again.

To be that happy.

Ever again.

When you're that happy, I learned,

you can be that sad.

I don't want to be that sad.

Ever again.

I'm burying my dancing shoes. 

I don't hear any singing.

I don't hear the quiet voice of God.

I know He is there.

Even when I don't hear Him.

I just never want to dance again.

I will grow up, change, and go on.

God is still there.

But we will not dance.

Perhaps we will plod.

Instead.

Perhaps I will be responsible and boring.

Quiet, methodical.

Perhaps disciplined.

All this walking might help.

But I don't want to giggle and dance again.

I'm burying my dancing shoes.