The Zealot Enters His Second Childhoodnby Tom MurraynHe had carried this barrier across his years,nAn iron curtain over life’s frontiers.nAnd always beyond the wallnWas the multiplying past,nThe last dead self and the self before the last.nThe innumerable all,nHis cumulative kin.nThe sometime guests he had housed within the skin.nAnd invisibly, whenever he uttered.nBands had blared and flags had fluttered:n”To the glory of God above,”n”The world’s well lost for love,”n”Let justice be done,” “This happy breed,”n”To each according to his need.”nBut now his backward glancenCan not one ghost renew.nNo need to darken their advance.nOpen the gates. They will not now come through.nnnJULY 1989/19n