Dance when you’re broken open.
Dance when you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Struck, the dancer hears a tambourine inside her,
like a wave that crests into the foam as the very top begins.
Maybe you don’t hear that tambourine ,
or the tree leaves clapping time.
Close the ears on your head that listen mostly to lies and cynical jokes. 
There are other things to see, and hear music dance.
A brilliant city inside your soul!