||[Dec. 20th, 2015|09:10 pm]
It's been another drizzly day, most of which I slept through. The rain is still falling, and will continue through tomorrow, probably becoming more intense. It's actually expected to get a bit warmer overnight, and tomorrow it will rise into the mid-forties, so even though I saw a bit of white slush falling with the rain this afternoon there will be no snow. The storm is bringing its own heat, courtesy of El Nino. |
Sleeping a long time has left me groggy. I've got the feeling that when I eat dinner it might put me right back to sleep, though maybe Portia will decide to keep me awake. She's been sleeping all day herself, and is probably about to wake up with plenty of energy to keep her going all night. I lack the energy to keep going for the next ten minutes, and maybe I won't even bother to eat dinner. This would be a good night for popcorn instead. Maybe I'll make some as soon as I finish this.
What Did I Learn in the Wars?
by Yehuda Amichai
What did I learn in the wars:
To march in time to swinging arms and legs
Like pumps pumping an empty well.
To march in a row and be alone in the middle,
To dig into pillows, featherbeds, the body of a beloved woman,
And to yell "Mama," when she cannot hear,
And to yell "God," when I don't believe in Him,
And even if I did believe in Him
I wouldn't have told him about the war
As you don't tell a child about grown-ups' horrors.
What else did I learn. I learned to reserve a path for retreat.
In foreign lands I rent a room in a hotel
Near the airport or railroad station.
And even in wedding halls
Always to watch the little door
With the "Exit" sign in red letters.
A battle too begins
Like rhythmical drums for dancing and ends
With a "retreat at dawn." Forbidden love
And battle, the two of them sometimes end like this.
But above all I learned the wisdom of camouflage,
Not to stand out, not to be recognized,
Not to be apart from what's around me,
Even not from my beloved.
Let them think I am a bush or a lamb
A tree, a shadow of a tree,
A doubt, a shadow of a doubt,
A living hedge, a dead stone,
A house, a corner of a house.
If I were a prophet I would have dimmed the glow of the vision
And darkened my faith with black paper
And covered the magic with nets.
And when my time comes, I shall don the camouflage garb of my end:
The white of clouds and a lot of sky blue
And stars that have no end.
Portia did keep me awake pretty late, though I got a few cat naps (or should I call them catless naps?)