I never heard about that church before,
Just about its rich cousin on the other side.
I entered, reverencing the years there
Imbibed in every stone with pride.
The usual darkness dominated me
And I felt scared for a moment,
A thousand voices rambling in the void,
Hollow sensation of pain and torment
I never walk through the middle,
But surrounding the benches.
So did I, moving toward the altar
Of this small church in France.
That’s when I noticed the stand
With a small perforated map
It was a bombing model
Hoping the history not to forget.
That night in the Light City
The Germans’ bombing was ferocious
No escape seemed possible,
Their power was atrocious
The church then seemed logical
And three hundred gathered there
Prayer seemed the only hope,
The only way to their lives spare
Then the miracle came:
Amid the disrupting terror
For the Germans, a mistake
For the French, blessing error
Not even one single bomb
Found their way to the temple
And the people, relieved, prayed more
For God to take it as example.
That day, reviving the history again
I felt peace was the most precious good.
And I left the church intrigued:
How come man yet hasn’t understood?
