Log Cabin Chronicles
Return
ELISHA PORAT
And they awaited his return: the cut grass, the hole dug for a tree, the fading plastic chairs, the rusted gate, its hinges wailing. Mother, brother, father and sister, frozen in time: faded to invisibility, bowed by the weight of the days. And when he finally comes, everything will start to move: the grass will grow, the tree will bear fruit, the plastic chairs will shine and the gate will swing and squeak, never to be still again. Just let him return: to burst the bubble of time, so that their scarred hearts can beat again. They will slowly kneel, will raise their eyes to him, in tears, in thanks.
Translated from the Hebrew by Cindy Eisner
Elisha Porat writes on a kibbutz in Israel.
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