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Poem	To leave the earth was my wish, and no will stayed my rising. Early, before sun had filled the roads with carts Conveying folk to weddings and to murders; Before men left their selves of sleep, to wander In the dark of the world like whipped beasts. I took no pack. I had no horse, no staff, no gun. I got up a little way and something called me, Saying, 'Put your hand in mine. We will seek God together.' And I answered, 'It is your father who is lost, not mine.' Then the sky filled with tears of blood, and snakes sang.
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