Crossing the Allenby Bridge to Go home
Location
The bridge gate opens
The bus shipping us
from bank to bank
slowly moves
on the border-crossing bridge
I turn my face to the left
and gaze through the dirty pane
The same reed thicket –
by which I was intrigued –
motionless, dark, deep
and spooky
like a haunted forest
The bus comes to a halt
the engine continues roaring.
the front door opens
the muzzle of a light uzi peeks in
“Leave all your stuff and get off,” says the driver,
“one by one.”
We rise
The stern suspicious eyes observing
“Yalla Yalla,” beckoning with his uzi
In the crowded bus the faces shine with sweat
casting their eyes through the glass panes
like a frightened gazelle
“Yalla Yalla,” again
We get off the bus
and stand on the sidewalk
as he climbs up
The vigilant head moving
forward right left
forward right left
forward right left…
I turn around
the murky river
thin and sluggish
hesitantly creeping towards its end
a fish jumps up in the air and dives
Splash
then another fish
and another
stirring the peaceful waters
It must be cool down there, I thought,
the sun cooking my head
“Yalla Yalla”
Startled, I turned around again
The uzi was waving right and left: “Yalla Yalla”
We climbed back and were all inside
and the bus moved up the slope
I looked once more
The Jordan was still rolling south
“Going to the salty sea!” I heard me whisper,
“a few kilometers and you’ll be home.”
You’re going home too, the small waves murmured
I’m going home…
yes yes, I’m going home…
and on the road
my soul will have to take a few tough tests…
But
there is always a chance –
a chance to
survive.
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