Everything feels quiet now
The air hugs my skin
hair not quite raised, but not quite static
seaweed drifts in the current
catching sunbeams and twisting them into bows
into knots
pulled tight
but I am relaxed
released
the edges of my self are fuzzy
bleeding out into space and open sky
off the balcony and across the street
dimly lit corners and trees standing silent
holding vigil
oaken sentinels, no rugged cross
no one-eyed man
no death wish
no curiosity
simple and stoic
a car turns left
דומה
More from Yonah ben-Avraham