Tapestry
Thursday awakens slightly before we do, but not by much,
Finding us finally refreshed, after Tuesday's all-night flight,
And eager to have breakfast, then meet our guide, at the hotel,
For a private four-hour walking and boat tour,
So that Amsterdam's Centrum can introduce itself to us . . .
Muntplein; the razed and rebuilt Old Jewish Quarter,
Evacuated in the '40s, razed in the '50s, redeveloped in the '60s,
Two decades after 120,000 of its souls were deported
To Westerbork, before traveling on and on,
Toward Bergen-Belsen, Majdanek, Auschwitz, Buchenwald;
The seventeenth-century Portuguese Synagogue;
The Waterlooplein house where Rembrandt spent nineteen years
Capturing the chiaroscuro light of these northern climes;
The Damplein; the red-light district;
Rokin, bordering the canal, where we catch the yacht;
Prinsengracht, Keizersgracht, Herengracht, and Singel,
Cable-stitching this fabled amazement of once-swampy acreage,
Built by geniuses equally as skilled as the Venetians,
Its habitations leaning, tilting crazily, precariously,
Utterly defying the physics of stability, to remain upright . . .
All the while, our pilot navigating the tightly wound paths,
Avoiding collisions with other motorized vessels,
Maneuvering the watery threads, below low bridges,
As he weaves Amsterdam's Centrum into a Dutch tapestry
That will decorate the evolving memories our love is gathering.
08/06/12 - (3)
|