My Dance

I'm dancing on a dark, cratered minefield
Like a child at his own birthday party,
Skipping, jumping, and twirling as the yield
Of high explosives eats its way through me.
And as the shrapnel flies through my fleshy
Core, scrap metal flung through a jello mold,
I'm lost in celebration. I don't see
The damage done. My eyes do not behold
My failing fragile frame, barely able
To continue my dance of abandon.
I leak blood and bile, crimson and sable
But I will dance on until I am done.
     And when that day comes and I dance no more
     My bones will collapse, but my soul will soar.