Learning to Land
by Victoria Moulton, Lauriston Girls School
Years 11 – 12 Written Poetry Finalist
Eyes wide with wonder, heart bursting with hope,
I stand there—pretty in pink, my bun pulled too tight for my little head.
I sink softly into the wooden floor,
hands finding their place upon the bar, fingers tapping, drumming with anticipation.
I am becoming a ballerina.
I will become a ballerina.
The twinkling piano begins
its familiar first eight counts.
One – stomach in.
Two – shoulders down.
Three – why don’t I look like them?
Four – legs turned out.
Five – smile.
Six – no, really smile.
Seven – smile until you can’t feel your cheeks… That’s it.
Beautiful.
Eight – again and again and again.
The mirror is a curious character.
I could never really tell if she was really telling me the truth,
or simply teaching me to lie.
She showed me more than the steps.
I started looking at my thighs,
my stomach, my arms, my hips.
And for the first time, I wondered if my body was wrong.
I was taught
to make myself disappear beautifully.
Toes pressed into pointe shoes
until pain became a part of the costume.
Bruises hidden beneath pink tights.
Hours of suffering packaged neatly into just three minutes on stage.
The audience sees floating.
They do not see the bloodied blisters, the tears of perfection,
the hunger hidden beneath the leotard, wrapped in a shiny pink bow.
They see effortless.
They see the picture-perfect smile.
They do not see
how hard I am trying not to fall.
Because that is the illusion:
to make suffering look graceful,
to make exhaustion look effortless,
to make the body disappear,
so the audience can cheer, and the critics can nod, and all call me beautiful.
And I became very good at it.
Five.
Six.
Seven—
Who told me I needed to be smaller?
Who told me that beautiful meant weightless?
The piano keeps playing,
but I stop counting.
For the first time,
I look into the mirror
and do not search for what is wrong.
My thighs are still there. My stomach is still there. My arms. My hips.
The mirror has not changed.
I have.
I was taught to disappear beautifully.
Now,
I am learning
to land.
How did writing this poem make you feel?
The topic of this poem is one extremely close to my heart and deeply personal, so at times, it was uncomfortable to write and took quite a bit of time to express. ‘Learning to Land’ is a poem which follows a young girl’s journey (myself) who at a young age, falls in love with ballet. Yet, slowly over time she loses her spark, passion, and drive for it. I found the poem difficult to write – it was challenging to reflect on and confront the painful shift from a love and passion so deep, relive the pressure of high standards and expectations, and put the complex grief of walking away from a lifelong dream into words. I am incredibly grateful for the opportunity to share my work with others, and feel that this experience has given me the chance to not only confront this part of my past, but also to recognise how much I have grown through it. Writing ‘Learning to Land’ has allowed me to revisit the girl who once loved ballet so deeply, while also making peace with the person I became when I eventually chose to let it go. I hope that, in sharing this poem, others who have experienced the loss of something they once loved can feel seen, understood, and reminded that walking away does not mean that the love, memories, or meaning were ever lost.
Which single line in your poem are you the absolute proudest of?
‘I was taught to disappear beautifully. Now, I am learning to land.’
Describe your poem in three words
Vulnerable, reflective, hopeful.
Where is your absolute favourite place to sit when you are brainstorming ideas?
Usually somewhere quiet, like my study or a library, where I have the space to let my mind wander. I find that some of my most personal ideas come from reflecting on smaller memories and feelings that I haven’t quite found the words for yet.
What skills do you think you strengthened through writing this poem?
Through writing ‘Learning to Land’, I strengthened my skills in self-reflection, emotional expression, creativity, and perseverance. Because the poem explored a such deeply personal experience, I had to reflect honestly on my relationship with ballet and confront emotions that were difficult to revisit. This strengthened my ability to communicate complex feelings through imagery, metaphor, and carefully chosen language rather than simply describing what happened. I also developed greater patience and perseverance, as expressing these emotions took time and required me to continually refine my ideas. Overall, the process strengthened my ability to turn personal experiences into meaningful creative writing.
Why do you think people write poetry?
I believe poetry is a form of art, in which people, who may not have the confidence to otherwise, can express themselves, release their deep emotions, and share their unique views and experiences of life. Poetry provides people with a voice, an outlet, to share their creativity and have an opinion on a topic of interest or passion. I truly believe that poetry captures feelings in ways that words alone cannot. It holds such a special power where it is able to so eloquently describe even the most grotesque, uncomfortable human emotions. In all, poetry is a form of art which every human can connect with – no matter your age, religion, or gender. It has the capacity to capture each raw aspect of human emotion and shows us that we are never truly alone in how we feel.