I confess this faith:
pain is the heirloom
of my generation
rage is the spirit
of my age
my universe pulsates
only to the rhythm
of one imperative —
to stand, unbowed,

a flashing column of refusal!
The rich folds of my night
are studded with gems of pain and
flashpoints of my fury
burn holes of blazing fire
in this globe
of bitter darkness
no,
I cannot deny
the twin rivers of my soul:
oh, river of anguish!
oh, river of rage!
The purl-song of my rivers
is a dazzling cameo
of agony and fury
I wear it
without shame
at my throat
for anguish has its claws
deep in my writhing soul.