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My Old Fidelities


My old fidelities,
Oh, my old fidelities have abandoned me
Lately, as though they already observe
My impending fade, my nearing oblivion
Which comes sneaking toward me.
My old fidelities,
I revere them: a far off Mount Hermon,
The ash of oak trees, the smoke of bonfires,
Sweet Tea, a drink with old friends,
Forgotten notebooks whose leaves
Are badly torn, your arm that was
Stretched to me at the grove with the thin
Hair that wonders and waves
Within the wind, the silent movie of my
Old sights who always escape from me,
And that heartrending pursuit, to chase
All what was . . . and will never be again.

© 2004 Elisha Porat
translated from the Hebrew by the author and Ward Kelley


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