A Poem Recollected

To the Editor

Ever since those planes flew into us on 9/11, I have often recalled that as a child I heard the London blitz, German bombs being dropped on London, as I listened on my radio here in America and I recall now Christopher Fry’s poem written then:

A Sleep Of Prisoners

The human heart can go the lengths of God

Dark and cold we may be, but this

Is no winter now. The frozen misery

Of centuries breaks, cracks, begins to move;

The thunder is the thunder of the flows,

The thaw, the flood, the upstart Spring.

Thank God our time I now when wrong

Comes up to face up everywhere,

Never to leave us till we take

The longest stride of soul men ever took.

Affairs are now soul size.

The enterprise

Is exploration into God.

Sincerely,

Patricia Gauvain

25 Housatonic Drive, Sandy Hook                          October 16, 2005