The Belly Dancer

A Poem by Muskaan Madan

Just a Dancer and her passion and pain

The Belly Dancer

Surpassed are boundaries and norms,
When the belly dancer takes you by storm.
To watch her is a treat,she can make your half heart whole,
She has beat in her feet, rhythm in her soul.
It feels like your eyes are playing tricks on you,
When she is just playing her isolation game strong,
It seems like she's to good to be true,
When she catches the tiniest beat of the song,
Like every dancer, she holds a story within,
Of her past and present, thick and thin.
Her belly speaks a language of it's own,
Understood by all, but to dancers known.
She creates her own unique style from all the lands that she trod,
She is not ordinary, she is not.
The visuals she creates and the sound her belt makes,
Touches upon all five senses of the human race.
Shimmying away to the core,
High in the sky heart sores.
Raqs Sharqi runs through her veins,
Through it she talks of her passion and pains.
With all the name and fame she gains,
She knows that there will be people who will talk in vain,
She pushes them aside from her way,
And locks some beautiful audiences in a haze,
So much love for dance in her heart,
From it she can never be apart.
For everytime she puts on a show,
Without kissing her belt does she never keep it in,
As she would call that her deepest sin.
~Muskaan Madan