Once in a while when space collapses
I am left to observe the point
where air enters the balloon
to inflate to smoothen the wrinkles there,
an umbilical cord tightened like a spring,
taut,torqued with tension, awaiting…
release – finally, allowed to spiral in life’s throe
and space expands and I am right back to no point
of reference, depleted of God’s good oxygen,
severed from the Mother, awaiting the next collapse.

Chagall 2018

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