Poem – Suzanne Farrell

In the realm where music and movement entwine,
A dancer emerged with a gift so divine.
Suzanne Farrell, a muse for our gaze,
Her dance a symphony, a lyrical blaze.

Balanchine knew well her musical soul,
In the notes and rhythms, she found her role.
The puppeteer’s strings, the music’s embrace,
Guided her form, a dancer’s grace.

Cool and aloof, as Balanchine’s own,
Yet within her, a fire brightly shone.
The music the conductor, setting the tone,
She danced with a style uniquely her own.

Not the pursuit of perfection did she chase,
But a surrender to music’s awkward embrace.
Genius in her, a musical art,
She let it control, guide every part.

Stravinsky’s odd notes, angular and free,
She wove them in dance, a marvel to see.
Quirks and chaos found shape in her moves,
An embodiment of how music grooves.

The arm’s gentle sway, the body’s reply,
Initiating movement, reaching for the sky.
Isolation’s power, she knew it well,
In contrast and emptiness, stories would swell.

Balanchine’s vision, a topographic guide,
Sculpted by dancers in whom art did reside.
Suzanne took the map, made it come alive,
Showing us wonders as they would miraculously arrive.

In the landscape of sounds, she’d wander and breathe,
Creating with music, a tapestry to weave.
Her dance a fulfillment, a stretch and a pull,
Classical tools bending, breaking the old rule.

Joyous explosion, a life and music blend,
In Farrell’s movements, art found its desires ascend.
A canvas of motion, a masterpiece true,
She was life and music, as her dance, gave birth anew.
~Suzanne Wagner~