There Was No Place To Go But A Poem Poem by Shalom Freedman

THERE WAS NO PLACE TO GO BUT A POEM

There was no place to go but a poem
Perhaps I could hide there
Perhaps I could find myself there
Perhaps I could simply feel better there
At a time when my feeling was under the ground
There was no place to go but a poem
I am going there now
But the afternoon does not open like a bluer sky
I know after all that there are no completely blue skies
The afternoon lingers and waits
And the poem I have gone to
Makes its slow way down and across the page
as if every real help
must come as anguish