Poems and Translations
Poetry of Sholeh Wolpé <Back To Poems Home Page
Of Leaving
Today’s news is
wrapped around
tomorrow’s dead fish.
Could it be that all windows
open to fiction while reality
burns in our stoves?
Time chimes in gods’ bell-towers,
and bottled sunlight gathers dust in caves
where humanity steeps in sour dreams of a savior.
Death is a bearded vagrant pushing a cartful
of lemon-yellow waning moons, and love is but a shadow
of itself, core-less and crumbling, like purity.
And God? God is always leaving, leaving
no footnotes to the commands He so lovingly leaves.
— Sholeh Wolpé
