dark to light
from day to night
black to white
sixteen swans in flight
a deceitful blight
a vision at height
a desperate love’s plight
triumphant truth’s fight
won with great might
now cracking dawn’s light
her transformation in sight
still daybreak burns bright
sparks of trust reignite
arms open and invite
twisting lovers holding tight
at long last all wrong is right.
-reflections on the Lake
What was strange about playing two very different characters in one ballet? I suppose the weird part was how very not weird it felt at all. Countless hours of rehearsal, nights laying awake reconsidering a sly wink here or a sharp gesture there, none of that seemed to matter when the lights hit. Odette’s trapped sadness felt real. The anguishing betrayal was not just a dormant memory in my own life’s experience. It seems a reoccurring theme. Odile’s slippery charm- while not exactly inherent- never felt altogether foreign, as if this persona was one I’ve tried on before.
I have waxed on about ballet life matching up with real life time and time again. I shouldn’t be surprised when this happens, but every time I find myself in awe of this art form’s ability to sink its teeth into my life and reveal bits of me that I didn’t know existed. How odd to have a piece of art explain your own feelings to you.
Thank you, Swan Lake, for being everything you are. The difficult pill that needs swallowing, the instructions manual that appears to be written in some language only decipherable through reflection. The glorious wave of warm sunlight when the water feels too cold to jump in alone. And thank you, Swan Lake, for showing me I can.
Been a while since I felt this way about someone,
