Atlantis and Egypt (cont.)
Two Poem Cycles by Linda Pearce
The Egypt Poems (cont.)
By Linda Pearce
WE ARE THE PHARAOH
We are the Pharaoh. Through countless years
all of My successive bodies took their part,
inhabiting the throne as was their right,
looking alike yet not-alike, Our similarity
inherent in Our connection to the gods
of whom We were many.
Our one-pointed disparity was hardly understood,
We spent so many years inhabiting the spiral
that drew Us up and down.
Before We came
this land was bare: while beautiful,
there were no works at all that spoke of man
or his own connection to the gods.
Summoning the architect, We made Our wishes known,
and now you see Our works standing in the desert,
commemorating Our absence.
I cannot say that each of Our incarnations succeeded.
Like you, We had our vampires, our ouija boards,
Our voodoo dolls and visits from the shaman:
one of Me slipped sideways now and then.
It’s true We were not scribes,
and failed sometimes to write Ourself truly on the page,
and sometimes We paid a toll in the service of beauty,
forfeiting Our mission to a smile.
But after We finished starbinding the priests
We were able to achieve the meditative progression of alchemy
We required in order to convert their strangely leaden thoughts
into the spun gold of the true ideals.
We were no flash in the pan:
between My many incarnations
We achieved a steady state for this land;
We made up for the failures of technology with molecular genetics,
set up a system of internal justice (adjudication delights),
tried to convey what We knew of Our own fortitude,
and morphed Our way on and off the earth
in a blizzard of golden light.
So bright is the past behind Us
that We cast long shadows into your time.
And yet your adulation palls; We tire
of your earthly applause for Our failures,
of your artificial homage to the past.
Who among you will judge Our successes,
when you lack all understanding
and all judgment.
We are the Son of Horus:
never think that you understand Us
from a casual trip to the waxworks.