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.
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.