The Phoenix - April 18, 2011

The small, petite girl walked gracefully on to the stage. She was alone… free to show her true emotion through dance. No one could tell her what to do, nor tell her to stop. It was only her, and the stage. Her feet were pointed in every step. The somewhat imaginary iridescent spotlights shone on her, making her dress sparkle. She was in a position, making her look…feeling like she was free at last… standing over all her troubles, all her worries, all her pain. Like she was the only one on earth with the feeling. The feeling of movement. Space. Freedom.

She breathes. Slowly, her hand reaches for the sky, her elegant fingers posed in such a way… as if she was going to take in a blazing stars energy. Her honey eyes beamed, staring up at the outstretched hand.



And then, with no warning at all, she began to dance. Pivoting quickly, she rises on one pointed foot and does a series of turns… like a dradel, moving at impossible speed when spun. At the very last possible moment, she leaps off of her turn and soars into the air. Her long legs straddled, she jete’s into open space, taking the silhouette of a young Swan. She lands, and her next movements seem to tell a story… her legs stretching to remarkable heights, her arms riding the wind. Fast, rapid movements… The thundering paws of a Cheetah, the graceful lifts of a Hawk…



Her eyes closed, lost in her passion, telling the story. Her story. Her story of redemption. Her story of life.



Then, she was crying. Her movements slowed, died. Her leg jerked backwards into the air, performing the scorpion. She pulled her leg back until it hurt, telling of the pain endured. She drops to the floor, grimacing…hiding from the world. Hiding from herself. Un-loved. Nobody cared. Nobody bothered.

After taking it all in… after embracing the past for so long… She arises.

In a matter of seconds, she’s on her feet, chin up, chest up high. With preparation, she launches her leg into the air, he dress trailing right behind it, portraying the pain subsiding, the dark clouds of what seemed as never-ending storm roll away. Love. Love is what she found. It closed the gap… the deep, growing hole that the pain had formed. She hugged her chest, on her tippy toes, her expression full of warmth…the wonderful feeling of flame igniting her heart.

She once thought that flame was destruction. Hate, pain, death. Destroyer of all things living.

Then, once she peered into the flaming heart of the Phoenix, she didn’t find what she expected. She found Light.

Flame isn’t destruction… Flame is a blessing. Light. Love.

She reached out into the imaginary audience, reaching for the light. Wishing it was here. Wishing he was here.



With one last movement, she poses. Symbolizing serenity, peace, and, most importantly, love. Her long black hair settles gently over her shoulders, the last of her sorrow leaving her behind. She smiles, eyes closed. Feeling the warmth of the fire. The warmth of The Phoenix.
 

-Kin Kazama