Miracles by Yehuda Amichai
Miracles by Yehuda Amichai
From a distance everything looks like a miracle
but up close even a miracle doesn’t appear so.
Even someone who crossed the Red Sea when it split only saw the sweaty back
of the one in front of him
and the motion of his big legs,
and at most, a hurried glance to the side,
fish of many colors in a wall of water,
like in a marine observatory behind walls of glass.
The real miracles happen at the next table
in a restaurant in Albuquerque:
Two women were sitting there, one with a zipper on a diagonal, so pretty,
the other said, “I held my own
and I didn’t cry.”
And afterwards in the reddish corridors
of a strange hotel I saw
boys and girls holding in their arms
even smaller children, their own,
who also held
cute little dolls.
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