Shalom Freedman Poems

We who love our children
Are most happy when those children
Have children of their own-
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A POEM IS SAD

A poem is sad
When it is not read
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In this small life of mine
So much Beauty and Goodness
Has been given me
That I could die now quietly
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A SMALL POEM

A small poem
A few lines
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AFTER THE END OF SHABBAT

After the end of Shabbat
The silence is broken
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THERE ARE TIMES TO FORGET

There are times to forget
The passing of everything
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When a child is born
The world begins again-
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I CAN NEVER MAKE MY DREAMS SING

I can never make my dreams sing
The way the world of symbols should-
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That mean more than their own literalness?
Where are the wild metaphors that surprise?
Where are the lines of beauty that inspire?
Where is some mystery some irony some deep perception?
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The last will not be remembered
Nor the first-
Nothing and no one
Will be remembered
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