I

Here I stand
by the Chicago River

Talking to you on the phone

The sun is out but the morning is
cold

Lake- crisp-wind helps me
breathe.

I tell you how I feel.

The river’s water is emerald
green.

Your voice brings me solace.

I tell you of my morning with
her.

It is Thanksgiving and I can
hear

At the distance on State
Street
The happy voices and cheerful
music

Rushing towards me like deadly
shrapnel of what I lack.

You are in the Tropics preparing
holiday’s meal
I’m here in the wind.

II

Here I stand by the Chicago
River

Calling you my dear. The sun
reflects

On the deep green river like fish
scales.

I left you a message—you called
back.

Half past nine in the morning

The Great Lake blows fresh cool
air;
In gratitude my lungs expand.

When I hear your voice I’m
well.

We don’t get many chances my
dear

And Chronos statue on the clock
across

The river on Wacker Drive

Spills time, spells names.

Where are you now? You asked

The answer is painful, long, and
obscure my dear.

III

Here I stand by the Chicago
River

By the stone bridge calling you
my dear.
The river seems to run in reverse
to the lake;

But it’s only the wind’s
steering—deeply, nothing reverses.

Where are you now? You asked

A question I constantly ponder my
dear.

Although I don’t tell you, you
know:
Laments upon laments torment
me.

You said I should have gone
alone.

Your voice is my anchor my
solace.

Your pure simplicity humbles
me.

This business I’m in is not for
cowards.

In the taxi to the airport the
driver asked: do you have family or friends here?

The answer is painfully short,
wherever the road is, my dear.

Dr. Ehud Sela

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  Photo by David Ohmer