Torn Meniscus

By Emily Schiffer

I tore my right lateral meniscus in ballet class earlier this year and am going in for surgery next month in hopes of repairing the damage. As a result of the tear, my mobility in dance classes and rehearsals has been vastly limited. This piece is an emotional reflection of these experiences.

I miss it.
I miss it. I miss it. I miss it.
I miss it so much, it hurts.
It hurts deep, deep, deeper. In the place behind my eyeballs where there aren’t even tears.
And at the root of my heart, where blood doesn’t go anymore.

It all rushes to you, Ego.
Where I have no more space to love anything anymore.
Where I drip… drip… drip.
Leaking into you. I am drained, and you remain unsatisfied.

I lose everything that used to be there because of you.
There, with the flying and throwing and kicking and bending all the way to the core of
the Earth.
All of the beautiful, torturing, desirable stuff…
I miss it.
I miss it.
I miss this stuff so badly, while I sit here and nurse you, poor, sweet, helpless, wretched

I hardly move, I hardly speak
just to…
just to see you better, dearest.
What may work for me anymore, dear Ego? I am on my own.

And actually,
It’s your fault. It’s always your fault. I’m the victim here. Victim to the beauty, the
perfection. My desire to have it, to be it, to embody all of it. This desire, this desire is
your fault. I did not do this to me. You took all of its beauty and all of its perfection and
manipulated it until I couldn’t stand anymore. This desire, you manifest it into pain.

You make me push and push and push until…
I am perfect.
You break, you tear, and you leave.

And I am left floating here.

And now you are separate, dear Ego.

And all the beauty and perfection just floats around us.

I miss it. I miss it so much.
I want it, I want it all back in me.

It is different now, and so are you.
And me, too… me too.

Photo courtesy Emily Schiffer