After the Celebration
We awaken, this Sunday, by the shimmering Amstel,
To a silence wider than that between centuries.
For these past two afternoons and evenings,
During the Gay Pride 2012 celebration,
We've been energized by the festive decibels
Of giant speakers reverberating in Rembrandtplein,
Behind tram-woven Muntplein,
On the diagonal from our nineteenth-century hotel —
An ornate fortress amidst tilting, swaying, canting edifices
Dating back to the 1600s,
When this city was the envy of less prosperous nations
Vying to satisfy Earth's voracious appetites
For wool, silks, cloves, tea, pepper —
Everything exotic shipped by the Dutch East India Company.
But this dawn, no throngs swell, undulate, wall to street,
Clogging all manner of pedestrian progress.
Crumpled beer cans and discarded food wrappers
Debris the thoroughfares below our third-floor windows.
The soft-drifting raindrops kissing the boatless river
Are the only visitors leaving traces on the water,
Where, yesterday, no open surface showed,
For the boats transporting souls celebrating their sexuality,
Dancing, singing, hugging, waving to us onlookers.
This sublimely quiescent Sunday,
We realize that a magnificent peacefulness has touched us.
Now, you and I stroll the Amstel's labyrinthine canals,
Traipse from below-sea-level island to island,
Breathing in the tolerance, the freedom that is Amsterdam.
08/05/12
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