by Katherine Player
When you were born to transcend the stage,
What happens when you can’t?
When the person you are is called into question,
And you find yourself masked, lying on the studio floor, surrounded by a ten by ten of white duct tape.
You trace the Marley with your feet, dreaming of the day when you can smile at those next to you.
You try to recall the feeling of being lifted in the sky, your vision blinded by a beam of stage light, your version of the sun.
But that feeling is nothing but a faint memory that you hold onto as your sweat drips onto the floor.
It’s hard to breathe now but you let out shallow sighs, pushing through the pain,
Knowing that one day, you will feel the lights on your skin again.
You miss the touch of others, moving your bodies in harmony, feeling their breath match rhythm with yours.
Sometimes you long for empty space
Where you can finally take off your mask and fly in silence.
You’re fueled by the hope of the future, grateful for the present moment and the memories of the past.
Pretty soon you will fly again, on stage, unmasked, and the isolation will become nothing but a faint memory of the ten-by-ten box.
Kate Player is a senior at UNCSA, where she has majored in contemporary dance for the past two years. Aspiring for theater and commercial work, Kate is in the drama department for her senior year. Prior to UNCSA, Kate performed concert dance works around the country and acted in local films. After graduation, she wants to study musical theater at the collegiate level. For her career, she wants to perform and choreograph theater works on Broadway, off-Broadway, and on national tours. In addition to musical theater, she wants to teach dance to the next generation of performers and act in films later in her career.