chagall backdrop

We tentatively tiptoe past
the quiet sleepers
who must choose
selfishness at the others behest
or at the expense of selflessness.

One or the other,
not both.

In a forest in mist
I release your hand,
a vain lapse; each moment
you’re gone
I bleed on shards
of Venus’ looking glass.

So quiet
they stir,
we feel
them stir
us to fall
face-down
on a bed
of spikerush.

Crawl along quietly now.

© Carlos Chagall, 2013