After four years of the illness so dreaded
most hesitate to name it,
to my surprise I find
the darkness only a seeming.
In truth how I feel
is light: burned clean¬Burned clean beyond
the terrible scream
of the melting at the stake¬Burned clear as bone
in the veldt, picked white
by wind and heat¬Burned bare, clear
as a flute of silver
tuned to the breath of God.