CROSSING Poem by Norbert Hummelt

the wind is working among the chestnut trees. I used to
walk along this avenue as a child: it's blocked off now
because of the danger of branches breaking off. it led
from the monastery to schloss dyck via the dyck wine
house in damm the way led back to the monastery. inside
is dark and cool as always. I dip my hand into the font
cross myself in the nave I see the brass plates in the floor
bearing the names of von salm-reifferscheidts. in the
wall an epitaph (marble). the person resting here was once
a count: the first death's head I saw in my life. the bones
jutting out from the relief like the vein in father's temple
when he was laid low with one of his headaches I was
asked to massage him the vein pulsing my fingers stroking
his hot brow, along the cold stone. two tablet halves daily
he always took me with him on his walks to the water but
there was no barque no ferryman no styx in the monastery
garden the jüchener stream marked the boundary between
cologne and aachen. we'd be across it in a single step.