Log Cabin Chronicles
Lily Bulbs
ELISHA PORAT
On Memorial Day I knelt To plant Lily bulbs in flowerpots, And put them in the concrete holders By the small military corner at our cemetery. When they sprout, to shout at me, I'll hide them again inside the soil. Sitting on the stone-bench, I watch every day, How green and fresh they rise, How the flowering white candles Are so shiny in autumn. How their blossoms become yellow, Only to wither, fade, and I remain unconsoled. And a year later, in the spring, I will kneel Again to the Lily flowerpots, to see How they cracked the dirt, and How the clay pottery collapsed, Broken, never to be mended.
Translated from the Hebrew by Ward Kelley and the author.
Elisha Porat writes on a kibbutz in Israel.
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