On The Edge1963Unknown faces in the streetAnd winter coming on. IStand in the last moments ofThe city, no more a child,Only a man, -- one who hasLooked upon his own nakednessWithout shame, and in defeatHas seen nothing to bless.Touched once, like a plum, I turnedRotten in the meat, or likeThe plum blossom I neverSaw, hard at the edges, burnedAt the first entrance of life,And so endured, unreckoned,Untaken, with nothing to give.The first Jew was God; the secondDenied him; I am alive.
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