Spiritual Tenacity Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

The show went on as scheduled,
A single spotlight circling an empty stage,
A warm yellowish fairy doll appears,
Dancing en point through autumn leaves.

Orphans encircle the swan,
As she leaves her stardust upon Saint Cloud,
An embodiment of grace with glittering skills.
Die Puppenfee dazzles the crowd.

To know her was to love her,
An accumulated wisdom of aesthetic language,
Crescent feet pirouette,
A collapsed torso with wilted arms a terre,
A tenacity that hovers En l'air.

And so in the foggy Albion Diaghilevs troupe foster kinship,
Paris births the Ballets Russes,
Petrouchka's ghost rises as night falls,
Stravinsky's chords harmonize,
Yet Nijinsky love for Romola pours forth light but never warms.

At the Suvretta house he took a final bow,
A wedding with god served with madness.
A phantom made of crimson petals,
Le spectre de la rose.

Oh how I yearn for Yule!
To travel to the land of sweets!
Where flowers waltz in tempo di valse,
Toy soldiers march in Tempo di marcia viva.

Down by the river the Reed flutes dance,
The sugar plum fairy and her cavalier as well,
Tchaikovsky symphony simmers,
Nadezhda von Meck benevolence clatters.

War engenders,
The music is silent.
The dreams gone.
The dancers forgotten.
The stage abandoned.

Yet the spiritual tenacity remains.
Seedlings for a new generation.
A luster of rose petals left behind,
To remind us that Odette lives on.