The Ballad Of Nat Turner
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.
Robert Hayden
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