Into the Prison house of pain none willingly repair.

by Anna Blanch on April 25, 2011

I’ve wrote about remembering living with pain and trying to find the joy in Reflecting on the joy of pain last November. What i couldn’t and didn’t know then was that I would once again be dealing with the pain that marked 8 years of my life. I wrote then:

Pain is the body and brain telling us that something is wrong. This is not an easy lesson and it is one that took me many years to appreciate. It was hard won and was a bitter pill on its way down.

This Poem by Florence Earl Coates captures the experience of Pain and its larger perspective  better than almost any work i’ve read.

I wanted to share the poem again. Things are different this time. I’m different. I’m grateful that it isn’t constant. I haven’t got my head around it yet.

Unto the Prison House of Pain none willingly
repair, —
The bravest who an entrance gain
Reluctant linger there,
For Pleasure, passing by that door, stays not to
cheer the sight.
And Sympathy but muffles sound and banishes the

Yet in the Prison House of Pain things full of
beauty blow, —
Like Christmas-roses, which attain
Perfection ‘mid the snow, —
Love, entering, in his mild warmth the darkest
shadows melt,
And often, where the hush is deep, the waft of
wings is felt.

Ah, me ! the Prison House of Pain ! — what lessons
there are bought ! —
Lessons of a sublimer strain
Than any elsewhere taught, —
Amid its loneliness and gloom, grave meanings
grow more clear,
For to no earthly dwelling-place seems God so
strangely near !” 

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  • Kathleen

    Brilliant thoughts and a perfect poem! Very true and profound. Thanks for sharing. I hope things ease up as much as possible and always let me know if I can help 🙂

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