a Golem

the other day I was a Golem awakened from his coma
and Joseph was my name

I was wandering the narrow streets of Prague
so familiarly unfamiliar
many people walked, they spoke different languages
I didn’t understand their words

I was mute and I couldn’t ask them
where all those people who lived here go

I touched the walls with palms, they keep the words once heard
after all we were made out of the same clay
from the banks of the Vltava river

I understand what they whisper
they whisper words of fear, words of despair

I touched the pavement stones with fingers
and heard those shambled steps of thousands tired feet
and heavy clashing boots

I was created to protect
but I was late
I overslept

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