I cried to God,
I beat upon the door
Until my knuckles bled;
God gave me no answer, gave no sign.
"There is no God," I sad.
I stopped my clamor
And lay spent,
A channel at ebb tide,
And slowly in the silence
The door swung wide.
We are all dancers. We use movement to express ourselves—our hunger, pains, angers, joys, confusions, fears—long before we use words, and we understand the meanings of movements long before we understand those of words.