Elie posted this up on Baloon Juice and I wanted to pick it up to read it again later:
Poem by Tennessee Williams:
Your Blinded Hand.
Suppose that everything that greens and grows should blacken in one moment, flower and branch. I think that I would find your blinded hand. Suppose that your cry and mine were lost among numberless cries in a city of fire when the earth is afire, I must still believe that somehow I would find your blinded hand. Through flames everywhere consuming earth and air I must believe that somehow, if only one moment were offered, I would find your hand. I know as, of course, you know the immeasurable wilderness that would exist in the moment of fire. But I would hear your cry and you’d hear mine and each of us would find the other’s hand. We know that it might not be so. But for this quiet moment, if only for this moment, and against all reason, let us believe, and believe in our hearts, that somehow it would be so. I’d hear your cry, you mine— And each of us would find a blinded hand.