The Place Where We Are Right
From the place where we are right
flowers will never grow
in the spring.
The place where we are right
is hard and trampled
like a yard.
But doubts and loves
dig up the world
like a mole, a plow.
And a whisper will be heard
where the ruined
house once stood.
by Yehuda Amichai
(New York: Harper & Row, 1986), p.34.