I was the girl in black,

withering all away,

the dreamer on the rack,

beaten down with gray,

the days were years,

the years were centuries

waiting for this day.

All the yesterdays—

those pale and hollow caves—

all the tossing, turning ways

of lying in the graves—

the thirsts were flames,

the flames were ash-bursts

that roared and died away.

Beyond the barren eyes—

shut against the dearth,

beyond the tear-streaked skies

and wastelands of my birth,

a word was life,

the life was color,

pushing through the gray.

I am the girl in gold—

alive like tiger skies—

I saw the love unfold

like dawn across my eyes—

the view is fire,

the fire is Christ

and this is our day.

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