A poem by Susan Glickman One Hand Clapping Some questions have no answers. These are the ones we must ask. How finds the way. Why builds the road. One travels light in darkness; Two, both lighter and darker. We are what the light makes when it stops moving.
This is written in response to http://patriciasplace.me/2017/12/13/in-other-words-elf/
I’ve never thought much about being an elf.
Mischievous, clever, mysterious creatures.
Then I slept beneath a giant oak tree
and stories of the past came flooding back to me.
Answers to questions I’ve always had about myself.
(personal photo)
when you touch the clouds
do they become green leaves
do you share secrets
in a place far from home,
do you ever feel alone?
(personal photo)
if you could tell me
one truth, what would it be,
beneath the red lights
and giant letters along the street;
what fact would emerge
ScribbleDartsfromtheHeart 