THE HOUR OF GRACE

THE HOUR OF GRACE

I used to think it could be solved this way:

like people gathering in the station at midnight

for the last bus that will not come,

at first just a few, then more and more.

That was a chance to be close to one another,

to change everything, together

to start a new world.

But they disperse.

(The hour of grace has passed. It won‘t

come again.) Each one will go his own way.

Each will be a domino again

with one side up, looking

for another piece to match it

in games that go on and on.

YEHUDI AMIHAI (Israel, 1924 2000)

From: Yehuda Amihai, Selected Poems

Penguin Books