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Dorit Weisman

MY MOTHER, 56 YEARS LATER

The years fall off her, 
as in another poem, tougher,
and there, on the tree-lined boulevard, she walked lightly, leaning
on her stick. Mom, I said to her, I want you
running like a girl, running on the boulevard,
I want to photograph you running on the boulevard,
but she didn’t run, my mother, I photographed her weeping,
the leaves falling around her. Nothing has changed
in 56 years, she said. Sat on a bench on top of a rocky mound,
as she did many years ago, forgetting the inflammation in her gums
and the pain in her knees. With a soft, quiet face, listened to the leaves.

MY MOTHER, 56 YEARS LATER

Dorit Weisman

Dorit Weisman

(Israël, 1950)

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MY MOTHER, 56 YEARS LATER

MY MOTHER, 56 YEARS LATER

The years fall off her, 
as in another poem, tougher,
and there, on the tree-lined boulevard, she walked lightly, leaning
on her stick. Mom, I said to her, I want you
running like a girl, running on the boulevard,
I want to photograph you running on the boulevard,
but she didn’t run, my mother, I photographed her weeping,
the leaves falling around her. Nothing has changed
in 56 years, she said. Sat on a bench on top of a rocky mound,
as she did many years ago, forgetting the inflammation in her gums
and the pain in her knees. With a soft, quiet face, listened to the leaves.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
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