In a GroundWorks DanceTheater exCHANGE with John Carroll University, students were invited to attend the GroundWorks Allen Theatre performance and use the experience as inspiration for poetry. Below are video excerpts of the performance that inspired John Carroll University student, Abby.

Excerpts from GroundWorks DanceTheater performance of “wait.now.go now.”

• Choreography: Johannes Wieland
• Performance: Premiered at Allen Theater, Playhouse Square, Ohio
• Date: October 24 & 25, 2014
• Dancers: Noelle Cotler, Troy Macklin, Damien Highfield, Felise Bagley, Annika Sheaff
• Lighting: Dennis Dugan
• Music: Compilation recording by Johannes Wieland
• Costumes: Janet Bolick
• Set Pieces: Ian Petroni
• Sound: Chuck Karnak

Alone

“Ride on,” my mantra,

reminding myself to keep moving

forward, ride the pain until it

is forced to submit.

I promised myself I would not

allow my addiction to overcome me.

But, it was a sickness I could not cure.

A provocative whisper:

“Now. Come now.”

Sharp ringing in my ears,

I feel the cold steel against

the throbbing vein, burning for relief.

She cackles, plunging the needle

into my skin. Unyielding, her maniacal

smile quickens my heart, or is that

from the fluid filled syringe?

Immediately, my mind spindles

into a kaleidoscope, spinning

me this way and that, dragging

me across the floor of my soul.

Pictures of my past display

on the front of my brain

while I sit, eyes forced open by

an invisible dominant.

I hear laughing. Terror kidnaps

my thoughts as I collapse to the ground.

I grab my knees and sway with the

maddening melody of her words:

“Wait. Really?

Come on!

‘Ride on, ride on.’

That’s your theme song now?

Really?”

Reeling, I look at my hand,

Fingers clasped around the syringe.

With a blink, the object is replaced

by a gorgeous gun.

The cackles grow boisterous,

deafening my soul with darkness.

“Really? ‘Ride on, ride on?’ ”

I stroke the barrel, eyes wide with adoration.

“Come on! That’s your theme song now?”

I slowly lift the pistol until the tip reaches my lips.

“Really? Come on!”

Softly, I brush the smooth, beautiful trigger.

“Wait.” I stop.

“Now. Go now.”

I pull.