My Beloved Companion,

^{Thysville Prison, 1960}

I write you these words not knowing whether you will receive them,
when you will receive them, and whether I will still be alive when

you read them: opening, the letter knows itself to be a vision :
a key proper to the dark lock and behind the door : a plane

of light muted as a savannah’s revelation of a woman walking
fringed by children: hers : his : a nation’s : the writer formed

by the ink of a self-determination, a broader promise, what we
wanted for our country—its right to an honorable life, to perfect

dignity, to independence with no restrictions : he knows his wife
will not read the letter: she will hear it read : he knows, reader,

that you will know he speaks to you : What else can I say? he writes.
It is not my person that is important. What is important is the Congo

. . . people whose independence has been turned into a cage, with people
looking at us from outside the bars he says, through bars :

outside : in : how his faith will remain unshakable :
how We are not alone.