Poetry

But who wouldn’t want to ask that question?

By Shloime Richler

It strangely feels good
feeling the feeling
thinking the thought
that I don’t know everything

That possibility
that maybe there’s a reality
deeper than my whims
realer than my thoughts
truer than my momentary feelings

It feels good
sometimes even feels true
funny enough,
“True” however my imagination defines that word today.

But whatever I call my life
is attracted
attracted to that possibility
in love with its hope
alive with its romance.

My thought being,
maybe that’s the religious discipline
our traditions
ancient maps of being.

The boxes our fathers strapped
over their thoughts and feelings
the day when we break time
the canopy hanging overhead
a young couple in love