It Was Only Writing A Poem Poem by Shalom Freedman

It was only writing a poem
Or trying to write a poem
That could free me of my despair
And give me a sense
That my being in the world
Could still mean something

Deluded of course
As always deluded
And yet this is what I do
It is what I can do
Lines and more lines

These lines perhaps a poem
This life perhaps with meaning

Now and to the end
A poem and another poem and another poem
All the way perhaps
If I am fortunate
Deluded to the end