Edema Rue

To the theatre, regarding magic:

Magic lives,

Within your walls.

And that magic happens

Because we’ve built it. 

The magic is there while we perform, yes, but the moments it happens most are seen by none but the cast. 

The magic is there after hours of rehearsal. 

The magic is there when the tears shed backstage are dried as we enter. 

The magic is there when lines oft forgotten are remembered in a moment of utter terror. 

The magic is there after a single screamed word, when the audience dares not breathe. 

The magic is there when an actor crumples to your floor and weeps for an audience to see.

The magic is there as fake blood oozes off shaking hands.

The magic is there in the condemning gaze of a bloody ghost. 

You are filled with magic, and through you we learn witchcraft of our own.

Our spells are built from hours spent with people we never knew before.

And we the cast will cast them together, 

In pictures,

And tight hugs,

And laughter,

And tears.

I live for magic,

And I find my magic in you.

I live to love,

And you let me be loved.

I live for pretense,

And there is none more beautiful than that I see on your stage.

So long I have ached

For the magic I now find.

And though today ought to be hopeless

And though we’re barely breathing

And though all that could be right is wrong,

In you I see magic.

And in the actors I see family.

And in their arms I am home.

And so,

Though we struggle,

I can smile.

And that,

Perhaps,

Is the truest magic there is.

To laugh at the dark, though there be no sign of light.

For within your walls,

I am not alone any longer.

Rue