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

The Selected Poetry of Yehuda Amichai

(New York: Harper & Row, 1986), p.34.