Poem July 14, 1956 Issue

THERE ARE HANDLES ON BOTH SIDES OF DOORS

Nora E. Taylor

Every door is tightly closed
about a dark interior.
One window high above
gives but transitory glimpses
of the sun.
The shadows cry:
"Until some unseen hand
outside
will turn a handle,
how can the prisoned one
escape?"
"Seek to the light," the answer comes.
An entering sunbeam
refutes the shadows with its revelation that
there are handles on both sides of doors.

Nora E. Taylor

Send a comment to the editors

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE

Editorial

"TAKE YE AWAY THE STONE"