They call it a march for  a reason. A military maneuver really. 

I am not inclined to walk in such a way.

But I would like to stand gracefully aware in defiance of a body politic. 

In truth, I prefer to dance.

Moving in rhythm with cycles, life cycles–Unashamed and unharmed. 

I prefer to dance.

Leaping with full turns, legs stronger than his arms.

I prefer to dance.

Stepping high above the platforms built by sad battles. 

I prefer to dance and be captured in full swing by the pulse of divine love.