Out of the shame of spittle,
the scratch of dirt,
he made an anointing.
Oh, it was an agony-the gravel
in the eye, the rude slime, the brittle
clay caked on the lid.
But with the hurt
light came leaping; in the shock and shine,
abstracts took flesh and flew;
winged words like view and space,
shape and shade and green and sky,
bird and horizon and sun,
turned real in a man's eye.
Thus was truth given a face
and dark dispelled and healing done.