Ra, Ra

God I was, forgotten, creeping streets
Above the streets of my beloved Heliopolis.
All the other gods are gone, their temples
Turned to shabby cells for commoners.
I cursed our fates. The world isn't
Awesome now. It's known and filthy.
Mother Nile, killed, no longer offers
Life. The clinking change of commerce
Marks the change. The sky, devoid of
Stars, is sterile, and the little lights
Along the streets, the demigods, in
Suits and ties, are what remain, and
Those, imprisoned in the pieces of our
Homes, are hopeless. What was promised
By the dawn is dead. The arts are commerce.
Pyramids are tourist trophies. What I was,
And these, in rags, had been, has been
Forgotten, like the place in which I lived,
Now lost beneath these streets. I search for
Heliopolis in basements, City of the Sun!, a god
Who cannot be a god. Above, the money
Changers work. The little lights come on,
As if they're stars, and I, in mortal's clothes,
Creep after those nobody else has noticed
Have been gone.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 21 times
Written on 2011-02-28 at 13:19

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