Hesitancy
by Mario Chard

And now I question
the ordered chairs and tables
of rooms we live
and breathe in
but pass trembling through
in darkness,
 

How feet uncovered
long to search like brave hands
but hesitantly stumble
on the shadows
of untouched tables
and unmoved chairs.

 
I would rather walk
the paths of the
compassless,
those who have learned
the distance and measure
of the light-change
before dawn:
who sleep
in the unordered rooms of fields
without shoes
or the fear of pain
that does not move
from where we set it last—

 
But still makes us wince
in darkness.