“The Little Girl” – a poem

by Jacko Peniazek

(© by S. Peniazek)

 

A little girl with big eyes asked me:

“How old is G-d?”

I got lost in my thoughts.

 

Music comes from silence,

your own voice from silent thoughts.

 

The mirror gives you back an image

that you cannot touch.

 

Can you listen to your own image?

Can you perceive undisclosed wisdom?

 

If you see a tree you do not see the roots,

and do you know how deep they are?

 

Can you bring back one single day of your past?

Would your hands hold the waters of the sea?

 

A great voice comes out in a whisper.

And this is going on for a long, long time.

Just in time, “Yes, dear child,

He is very old.”

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