Text
Sometimes poetry
tests my patience.
Poets arranging words dragged in from other worlds
as if taking dictation from alien nation heads of state,
prophets calling in
spewing wisdom in an unfamiliar cadence,
order and disorder, symbols and signs.
Imagination forced to fill gaping holes—
a bridge too far, a channel too deep—
leaping the tracks from
one train of thought to another without warning.
A novice, left alone at the station
weighed down by carry-ons of confusion,
exasperated, brow furrowed.
Listen with your eyes closed.
Maybe magic ...
... maybe madness.
Teacher, “Today we’ll study this text.”
Student, “But Rabbi, I don’t read Hebrew.”
Teacher, “Your heart does.”
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