Here at the shore of Ashkelon we arrived at
the end of memory
like rivers that reach the sea.
The near past sinks into the far past
and the far past rises from the depths
and overflows the near.
Peace, peace to the near and the far.
Here among the broken idols and pillars,
I wonder how Samson brought down the temple
where he stood blind and said: “Let me die
with the Philistines!”
Did he embrace the pillars as in a last love
or with both arms push them away
to be alone in his death.