Ring the Bell

Saturday
September twelfth
Two thousand and fifteen
Four thirty in the morning
Krakow

Following the directions
of the handsome bartender from Alchemia

Can't find the entrance
remember what he said

This place
is super hidden
but I got the feeling
you will find it

Liquor store
two people ahead of me
now it's my turn

In broken Polish
asking the cashier
the sentence I practiced

Przepraszam (sorry)
Gdzie tu jest (where on this street is there)
bar queerowy? (a queer bar?)

Looking at her
hope she understands
notice the hesitation

Nie wiem (I don't know)

Outside it's cold
disappointed
a little scared

Turning toward the main road
to look for a taxi

Suddenly behind me
the cashier shouts

Go down the street
fifty meters
turn left
ring the bell

Tears rising
overwhelmed

Black iron gate
intercom
silence

Press
quiet
press again

The gate opens
and something in me too

Here, in the heart of punk culture
between rough walls
a subculture grows

From shame
from guilt
from persecution
from repression
from fear

A small place
simple people
with similar stories

And here
it feels natural to dance
natural to let go
natural to be

Thoughts coming and going
Pardes Hanna
loss of innocence
Jerusalem
coming out

Krakow at sixteen
the security guard of the delegation
who would probably drag me out of here
and feel he saved my life

And alongside the narrative
of Holocaust
and trauma
and hatred

There is also hope
joyful people
beautiful people

Thinking about the power of connection
about the look with the bartender from Alchemia
about the cashier who chose to trust me
about sweet Krzysztof who opened his heart

In the early hours
when darkness turns into light
Goodbye Krakow
thank you for letting me glimpse