Movement Teacher

At the time you were a revelation.
We fresh faced acting hopefuls
were awed by your stubborn optimism,
your physical assurance and fervor
were infectious.
You opened possibilities
to our young impressionable
artistic minds
which we had never considered.
We all came to love you
and hung on your every word
quoted you to each other, the gospel of Paul D.

Under your firm yet cheerful guidance
we studied the principles of Laban
we threw our bodies into
The Eight Efforts-
Indirectly pressing
sustained gliding
directly dabbing
weighted wringing
lightly flicking
quickly slashing-
all the innumerable combinations.
Under your benevolent supervision
our perception broadened
our bodies strengthened
our aesthetic sharpened.
We adored you, we your movement acolytes.
Until that day.

You stopped Caitlin during her solo exploration.
Vented your frustration and disappointment,
your scorn and consternation on her, undeserved.
We saw your positivity and support was but veneer.
Your confidence a fraying rope.
Your fear and discontent acidic.
And we, the recipients of this self-induced maliciousness
were left confused and betrayed.

We all lost something that day.