Gray and self assured and solid it moves forward
on its damp and endless journey
while yesterday’s ambulances go back and forth
back and forth in my brain
its body slimy and exposed
not knowing how fragile
its two antennas in the air facing forward and slanted
as far forward as possible
crawling on the ground
between giant geranium trunks
and one red petal
which has fallen
and what am I doing, counting
the children at home in their beds
and only this snail
this snail alone makes me feel better this morning
and maybe he is watching me
in his quiet, slow manner
beyond time.
© Dorit Weisman, PRIVATE 47, p. 20 (Translation from Hebrew by Ohad Stadler)
