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I Am At Home With Kafka

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I AM AT HOME WITH KAFKA

I am at home with Kafka -
I know his soul
I read it as mine own so many years ago-
His father as my father
And his face as my grandmother's,
Lean and white and long
With its own deep beautiful sadness-

Anxiety is mine-
And fear is mine-
And parable is mine-

And yet
His genius is his and not mine
He is Kafka
And I am only one of many readers-

I am at home with Kafka
I know his soul
But I am not Kafka-

Kafka is a genius of mankind
And I am a little man writing forgettable lines
Still alive
Many long years after the age
The holy genius went to his grave unrecognized.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Added by Poetry Lover
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