one needn’t be brave
to die a death of a thousand kisses

…once there was a heart,
there! I said sharply, jabbing
her breast with my finger
repeatedly, there!
that was where love once was…

is my sorrow for your future
the same as love?

love is in the eyes that lift skyward

the esteem of newfound hope
for those trodden down

the thought of sharing the road
– the sun-bleached endless morning road –
hand-in-hand, with so much day still ahead,
with you

with all the days still ahead,
though the first few in the queue
are all that are ever ours

a whirling eddy
of faces and feeling,
fleet until fled

life without us goes on,
a snow-globe we shake
then observe from afar

like an Escher hand we curve
about ourselves to hold ourselves:
we are nought but paradox

a pair of hearts we call our own
but never quite control

nor understand

at the moment when your lips last part,
you will tell me if one need be brave

Chagall 2020