The Place Where We Are Right
by Yehuda Amichai
From the place where we are right Flowers will never grow
In the spring.
The place where we are right
Is hard and trampled
Like a yard.
But doubts and loves
Dig up the world
Like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard in the place Where the ruined
House once stood.
(Thanks to Rabbi Michael Latz for reminding me of this poem).
No comments:
Post a Comment