Plowed land. Inside turned out
Like a man who confessed.
All the crumbling things
Are on their way to become one again,
Like the One stretching out in a loud voice
At the end of Sh’ma Israel.
My children in Jerusalem
Turn in their sleep toward my journeys
Into the past and into the future.
Empty rivers think I am water,
I am cloud, shadow of a cloud,
And I think, a dry riverbed.
I was left with two friends:
A geologist and a biologist.
The field between them is mine.
—Yehuda Amichai, “North of Beer Sheva”
Photography Credit Gregorz Momot (via)