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Arts collective Beheard.world’s production from Nov. 22 to 23 stood at the intersection of spoken word poetry, dance, and music from a diverse range of genres. Presented by The Dance Complex, it was divided into two segments, titled “Belonging” and “How We Go,” accompanied by a short film describing the creation process.

Its message on bridging divisions rang loudly through the small black box theater, yet what made the production most distinct was the convergence of different artists.

Two spoken word poets, Lailonie Johnson and Dakohai Matityahu, opened the show, immediately penetrating barriers between performers and the audience as well as between audience members themselves. Johnson even requested that attendees grab hands with the people next to them, to which they obeyed.

With concern and conviction, the performers also pried at dark corners of the heart.

“How many relationships have you severed with your selfishness,”Johnson said.

While speaking on genocide and discrimination, Matityahu asked the audience to consider how people can be celebrated for their unique cultures rather than just recognized by the hardships they experience. Firm yet inviting, they created a framework for the “Belonging” segment that made the audience feel as one.

Following a blackout, nine dancers entered barefoot and dressed in black. The stage did not have wings, yet the eight dancers waiting on the side hardly distracted from the soloist at the center, taking slow steps backwards toward the audience. Another dancer soon walked on and turned her around.

Contact choreography like this was integrated throughout the show, making each dancer distinct yet connected. From simple eye contact to pressing on each other’s backs, these brief interactions resembled moments of relief and empathy amidst the rush of daily life.

Certain phrases also became recognizable patterns. The repetition created cohesion across the different dancers and built momentum throughout the segment. To sustain energy in simple, redundant steps can prove more difficult than many presume, yet the dancers remained emotionally engaged even while simply rocking or pacing.

All the dancers rarely performed the same choreography in unison, yet when they did, the impact was even greater. Most of the time, just one or two dancers were synced, making their role unique to the group’s dynamic.

As with all the artists, the emotion emulated from their faces. Especially due to the nature of the black box theater, the audience sat close and mostly level with the dancers, making the tension and vulnerability even stronger.

While it was evident that not all dancers were classically trained, the choreography suited their capabilities and the emphasis on storytelling, movement quality, and musicality was fitting for the theme of the show. Formations like group circles or staggered diagonals were also clean and compelling, adding creative structures to frame the relatively simple movements.

Many transitions involved dancers running or walking into place that created a natural feel, yet some variety could have added another level of nuance to immerse the audience in the piece.

Another poetry segment included an audio recording from Glenn Lucci Furman — known by the artist name LUCCI — who died last year. Like the other poets, his voice projected clearly and confidently in the space despite the limitations of the audio system.

“When was the last time you said thank you for being here?” the recording said.

One of the most unique segments of the production was a short film that captured the production process of “How We Go,” in which musicians from different parts of the Boston music scene were recruited to create a track for the dancers to perform to.

Included were pianist Nate Tucker, flamenco guitarist Antonio Tran, bagpiper Nate Silva, and cellist Sarah Nichols. Choppa Beatboxa, a beatboxer, also joined the group. His freestyle to the rhythm of a car windshield wiper was a prime example of the humility and authenticity with which each artist approached their craft. The diversity of the artists also exposed the audience to different pockets of the local arts scene. In the film, Silva described the “healthy” Scottish music scene in Boston, a sphere audiences may never have explored on their own.

Witnessing this cross-collaboration form from the ground up was a rare and special experience, giving credibility to the musicians, choreographers, directors, and composers.

The intention behind the choreography was also included in the film. Explaining the idea behind the art can detract from the beauty of interpretation, but gaining a deeper appreciation for the marriage of sound and movement felt much more valuable.

Poets again opened the live performance of the “How We Go” segment that followed. Tiella Grimes spoke to “generational repetitions” and “hand me down realities” but claimed community can be strewn from these parts through listening and caring for others.

In the same vein, Matityahu mentioned his own background and the importance of coming together as one. “My grandmother taught me we are a part of, not greater than,” Matityahu said. His water metaphor for how people move and bend together was also creatively reflected in the ripples and flowy choreography of the dance that followed.

The choreography in this second segment resembled the first in formations, transitions, and repetitive phrases. In part due to the film, the musicality was more apparent with the stretch and resistance during the cello solo and the quickened pace during the piano solo. In tandem with the music, the movement also evolved beautifully from collective breaths in big formations to sharp, heavy movements when the beatboxer began and other instrumentalists clapped along.

Still, at times, it felt like the dancers were flowing with the music — sharing the energy of the other artists, yet not in direct response to their rhythms. The movement could have married the music more successfully if beats were hit distinctly.

The “unique unity” that Matityahu described in his poem was embodied in every element of the production, from each dancer positioned to create a collective image to the musicians in harmony to the poets’ personal experiences merging into a call for community.

Beheard.world’s statement was clear: Differences do not detract from the possibility of sharing and experiencing together. Although this message was not novel, the form and collaborative nature of the production made the reminder deeply memorable and powerful.