Each day your being in this broken world
you repented and invented in the same breath,
struggle proceeding without theory,
only in practice, with awkward actions

I watched, not knowing what I watched or why,
you confused me, because you repented
your invention of me, too, as if I’d
be better not to be, better with you

At a safe cold distance so that your plight
couldn’t contaminate me, except that
you had an instinct, too, for warmth, so I
was drawn closer and closer to you

So close that sometimes in dreams I was you
Unaware of myself as someone new

In Memory Of David Victor Lewin, 1912-2002

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