At the Jewish cemetery
many of
the stones lie overturned. Their lie
does not
seem random to me, nor their fall
as being
caused by gravity, but rather by
a power
that has an underlying reason.
So that
each slab or tombstone there lies
thwacked
down with a purpose – a soul – and waits
on the
bühne of the cemetery till someone
who
comprehends comes in from the wings.
But what
then am I doing here? None of these
stone
bodies moves at all, no voice is to
be heard that
pierces their grey outlines.
We always
stand as strangers next to one
another. From
them to me no gesture reaches out
that can
be long enough.
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