Crisis / Poem by Tali Cohen Shabtai

Poemsby Tali Cohen Shabtai



It was an
in ten sive
I did not know
that the mind is illusive
and paracetamol is not admissible
for a psychosomatic sense
in the pelvis.

That the thought sticks
like a Band-Aid on a congealed wound
in the morning
and secretes pus until tomorrow,

and at night an emotional baggage
uncompromisingly hard
and impossible to reject.

I did not know
that “bias for my own good” according to
the attribution theory
did validate an “inverted bias”
between action and between the interior and the exterior
at a time of depression.

After all, I am from there
where a man hosts himself first
and places in deposit
the absence of neurotransmitters
in his nervous system
a two-month encounter on blue
chairs in the unit’s lobby.

Surely I am where
Dahlia Ravikovitch* was for “a ship
without sails in a sea without wind”

But I still
admire human smiles
in the most undeclared way
there is
I am in crisis.

*An Israeli poet.

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