My Metronome

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
Your voice becomes a metronome to my dance steps
Even when the music fills the air loudly in my ears
Your counts never become stagnant in my mind
The titles of brother, son, cousin, friend, artistic director and choreographer
Couldn’t measure the person that you are today
No title or even a word fully demonstrates in its entirety the make up of your identity
You are a character
Not even a letter with its own font
But rather a symbol of passion
To say you are driven by money or fame
Would be the reciprocal of what you stand for
Love and destiny fuel your dreams
Leading them to escalade
Beyond the horizon of what you thought was possible
Mixing culture with art
Breaking the rules of contemporary
Simply making it your own
A theatrical spectacle of the present searching for the past
Your vision isn’t trapped behind closed doors bottled away and forgotten
The vision evolves into a greater being
Becoming alive in each performers’ heart, especially in my mine
You shared your vision without the anxiety of rejection
Without contemplation or insecurities or inhibitions
Although we are bonded by the blood flowing in our systems
There seems to be a silence between us
A relaxed state without argument or confrontation
18 years a part maybe a barrier
Not being able to see eye-to-eye
Yet you bestowed upon me a challenge
Which I formally accept
Your love for the arts fuels my need to try to find my purpose or
Passion in life and pursue it at full force without looking back
One day I’ll learn to dance without the guidance of your voice
But for now,
You’ll be the metronome in my ear, not telling me the counts
But saying, “I believe in you”