A Poem from Israel

This poem is written in Hebrew in my heart

In a silent manner while you read another tongue

But it’s not because I always sat apart

And never did my lessons when I was young.

If that were so, my verses could be French

Or German, maybe Spanish, Catalan or Dutch.

The secret meanings of this poem would wrench

Your heart, and tears would flow, and other such

Emotions.  But why things are as they are, dear reader,

For other reasons than laziness or stupidity. The lines

Of secret meanings flow out of me, like a spider

On her cob and mat themselves into screens:

The other language, whatever, glimmers sense

But what is really real hides within the fence.