In memory of Chanoch Levin

Sad, sad, sad figures
Wander in the space of
the grotesque.
In their abject state,
they overcome and play cords
upon the reason.

Always with a glimmering look of humor,
to be able to absorb this bitter pill,
the hardship to look in the mirror.

Our scarlet letter,
or it might be our scorn, dilapidation,
or actually it might be
our own impediments and
lack of social skills
to face the fear.

It is a pity, and sad that we had a prophet
who became silent, like the "court-jester,"
who always knew to say the truth
and made everyone hear it, if not to listen to it.

To hear, we might become, even for a moment,
better people….

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