“Post‑Parable”

For grandfathers, fathers, and grandsons to read. With a question at the end.

HE AND SHE: SPRING IN A MASK
An essay in verse from the boulevard

With grandchildren on a spring day,
walking along the boulevard,
we unwittingly follow a young couple…

Everything in the usual rhythm, in the familiar mode.
Covid’s pressure on global life is weak,
not yet colored with a full pandemic hue.

The efforts of the girl in red are in vain.
She tries to strip from the stately young man
the still non‑mandatory mask.
He is not meek, she is not timid.
His advantage — in height.
Hers — in persistence:
unceasingly
to rid themselves of the herald of separation.

She persistently reaches for his face.
For her it is strange: new… familiar…
Driven by a dark foreboding,
she remains unshaken in spirit.
For the mask is a jolt,
even if made of down.

What I saw in this play:
Spring laughed. But between their lips already stood a wall.
Thinner than down, heavier than stone.
He — height. She — persistence.
He guards the boundary. She fights for breath nearby.
This is not a quarrel. This is a test of love in an age of change.

The mask here is not about the virus.
The mask is any barrier between the close ones.
Resentment. Pride. Phone. Silence.
It makes the familiar face — new. Strange.

The formula born on the boulevard:
“Spring gives encounter, but reminds: even love is not free from trials. Even a familiar face becomes new when between it and you stands a mask, not a word.”

He and She — are spring and mask.
Encounter and trial. Breath and separation.

“Zen Triptych”
A pure image. Without explanations. For those who feel.

HE AND SHE: HARBINGER OF SEPARATION

I
With grandchildren along the boulevard.
Spring.
A young couple ahead.
Her fingers deft —
to strip from his face
the still non‑mandatory mask.
Downy. Heavy.

II
He is not meek, she is not timid.
His strength — in height.
Hers — in persistence.
A struggle not for victory.
A struggle for breath nearby.

III
Spring laughs,
but the harbinger of separation
already reaches for the face.
The unfamiliar becomes familiar
only through touch.
The mask — is a jolt.
Love — is a measure.
The distance of propriety —
to preserve the light,
without burning.

Aphorism:
“He and She — are spring and mask. Encounter and trial. Where persistence tears the down to save breath.”