Sandra Fabac, poem
Moderator 
CHAMELEON
Beneath the fig leaf
humanity first hid its own fragility
believing it could outwit time
since then we have been changing colours
in the reflection of windows
a bowl of red, fragrant cherries on the table
burns in the silence of summer
their skin resembles small hearts of gods
forgotten, no longer invoked
cities have taught us
to pass through one another
without touch
faces have become filters
words a novel
in which every ending
arrives too late for tenderness
Yet beneath the skin something older still survives
a trace of the first unextinguished fires
when people believed
the stars could hear them
the chameleon knows this
it does not change colour to deceive the world
but to remain in harmony with it
only humans
change their faces
and lose themselves in the process
upon the shoulders of morning
the pigments of dawn spill through the trees
as though the sky were trying to heal itself
from what we have become
And the earth continues to forgive
even after wars
even after rivers learned to carry ash
instead of reflection
within each of us
there is a space that still breathes
an unspent place of light that does not give up
not as victory
but as a hand that does not return pain
perhaps the meaning of being human is this
not to disappear into change
but to learn how to change without hatred
for only those who do not find an enemy in their own shadow
can return a face to the world
and when that finally happens
every window will carry a quiet sun
and humanity, like the old skin of a chameleon
will finally shed itself
without resistance
without story
only a face remains
that no longer needs a mask
and the earth
that no longer needs to forgive
Sandra Fabac
Poetessa Humanist Ambasador
Croatia
