The Red House
This is a response to “The Red House” by Marc Chagall (right). It was an assignment in a creative writing class I took at Santa Rosa Junior College.
She stands in the door sill wishing, wanting, but, alas, not having.
Beneath the floating oxen, he watches her, wishing, wanting, but, alas, not having.
Between them there is a wall. A barrier whose bricks are made of tradition, stubbornness and fear of rejection. Because of self-doubt and imagined weakness, they can not pas this barrier.
The man in the cart can. He follows his own way, not always the way of tradition. Stubbornness is a thing not understood by him. Whatever fear he has, he overcomes.
She looks up at the floating oxen, wishing, wanting, but alas, not having. Maybe tomorrow I’ll try, she thinks as she walks back into the house. But tomorrows have been passing her by and probably will continue their march unless she changes.
He looks up at the floating oxen, dreaming his useless dream. Rejection is something he chooses not to risk, therefore remaining behind the barrier.
