Hula

When I dance, I don't just dance

I feel it.

And as cringe-worthy as that sounds,

I mean it.

The stage-smile, plastered on the faces of those around me

comes to an end when it reaches me.

On my face

is a goofy grin

holding back giggles of

pure joy.

My hands tell the story just

as much as my face,

just as much as the ukulele

just as much as the implements

just as much as the singer.

Yesterday's sadness is gone

The stress of school,

all my responsibilities,

my inadequacies,

my insecurities,

gone--

once I step into the studio. Once

that first chord strums

and I stand:

hip to the left, right foot pointed out.

Left hand, center of chest

Right hand extended at 45 degrees.

My smile reaches my eyes and I feel it

down to my bare feet.