Then fled, O brethren, the wicked juba 
and wandered wandered far 
from curfew joys in the Dismal?s night. 
Fool of St. Elmo?s fire 


In scary night I wandered, praying, 
Lord God my harshener, 
speak to me now or let me die; 
speak, Lord, to this mourner. 


And came at length to livid trees 
where Ibo warriors 
hung shadowless, turning in wind 
that moaned like Africa, 


Their belltongue bodies dead, their eyes 
alive with the anger deep 
in my own heart. Is this the sign, 
the sign forepromised me? 


The spirits vanished. Afraid and lonely 
I wandered on in blackness. 
Speak to me now or let me die. 
Die, whispered the blackness. 


And wild things gasped and scuffled in 
the night; seething shapes 
of evil frolicked upon the air. 
I reeled with fear, I prayed. 


Sudden brightness clove the preying 
darkness, brightness that was 
itself a golden darkness, brightness 
so bright that it was darkness. 


And there were angels, their faces hidden 
from me, angels at war 
with one another, angels in dazzling 
combat. And oh the splendor, 


The fearful splendor of that warring. 
Hide me, I cried to rock and bramble. 
Hide me, the rock, the bramble cried. . . . 
How tell you of that holy battle? 


The shock of wing on wing and sword 
on sword was the tumult of 
a taken city burning. I cannot 
say how long they strove, 


For the wheel in a turning wheel which is time 
in eternity had ceased 
its whirling, and owl and moccasin, 
panther and nameless beast 


And I were held like creatures fixed 
in flaming, in fiery amber. 
But I saw I saw oh many of 
those mighty beings waver, 


Waver and fall, go streaking down 
into swamp water, and the water 
hissed and steamed and bubbled and locked 
shuddering shuddering over 


The fallen and soon was motionless. 
Then that massive light 
began a-folding slowly in 
upon itself, and I 


Beheld the conqueror faces and, lo, 
they were like mine, I saw 
they were like mine and in joy and terror 
wept, praising praising Jehovah. 


Oh praised my honer, harshener 
till a sleep came over me, 
a sleep heavy as death. And when 
I awoke at last free 


And purified, I rose and prayed 
and returned after a time 
to the blazing fields, to the humbleness. 
And bided my time.