Eli Tomer - Selected Poems

Through The Tunnel

Waiting for a shuttle in Berkeley

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Through The Tunnel     Play AudioAudio

On the bridge, half way through,
I'm squeezed in the dark tunnel.
Soft lights around, the beat of the traffic
pounds in my ears.

Now I can see the light
coming closer, sharp and unforgiving
and it urges me -
it is time to go.

The two arms of the bridge
shining and warm, rising up in blessing
and my movement toward them,
is soft and suspicious and swift.

Now I forget the pain,
and I can smell the light.
The city, misty and enlightened,
is waiting for me to breathe.

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Waiting for a shuttle in Berkeley     Play AudioAudio

Cold, wind at daybreak
strolling down the stairs
outside - the smell of a skunk
mixes with chimes from a house nearby
a deer crosses the road
and Berkeley still sleeping
her homeless
dream of warm days under the sun.
Draped in the fog
she breathes morning
her eyes veiled
careless about the future.
And I - wide awake
thinking of the journey ahead
when the shuttle arrives
with its hurried driver
impatient passengers;
And then
a last glimpse of the staircase
fades in the fog.

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