I watched as he broke her heart,

Stood her up,  tore her apart.

He did it like it was a skillful art.

He told her she was his breath and life,

he wanted her to be his wife,

He threw away those words like a guilty knife.

If she had only known at the start,

she would have armed herself for the fight.

But, I watched her rise,  watched her wounds heal,

She bore the pain,  and it was surreal

to see her gather what he tried to steal.

I watched her eyes grow wise and deep,

there were no cries of wounded pique.

not once did she let him see her weep.

I saw a strength so catching and real,

I knew there was somewhere she carried this deep.

Then it was by pure chance,

I saw her dance.

The pain ebbed out in glorious beauty,

every note doing its duty,

The loss, the tears, the guilt and the shame,

Out of each move the flowing came,

I saw her divine a patterned advance,

when I saw her dance.