"I died, but somehow this shell of me trudged
on for years, decades. Something fiercely defied my death, would burn my
inward parts, never resting, singing sometimes raucously as I,
shattering, was trampled, tamped down. Taunting me to dance ever more on
puppet strings, the eyes, the mocking mirth of minions of my demise,
defying them all. I did dance, a macabre dance of joy, of love, of
kindness, of hope in darkest dark of no light but the longing knowing of
the fierceness of my heart. My dance. My way. Even climbing the puppet
strings to braid them to me. I dance. I dance.
Burning, I dance."
~ Daphne Yvonne Bradshaw
