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Literature, Poetry, Theory/
In the Meantime

Natan Zach

In the meantime she returns to me each time that I sleep in a dream

And I say to her welcome back, in the meantime sit

And she arranges the pillow, as is her custom

Because it is only natural that a mother arranges the pillow for her son

And that the son will be the one to arrange his mother’s pillow

And wipes away her cold sweat and smoothes her wispy hair

And holds her cold hand and says don’t be afraid

The place you are going to, you will not return from there

Empty as you returned so many times

Because the place that you are going to has no hopes

And no loss, regret and sorrow, not even a mother’s pain,

The place you are going to is not missing anything, it is a complete place.

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