They were afraid of her-
Mother.
She laughed with ages.
One without the worry of,
the consequence of time,
while her sons and daughters,
even the special one,
her beloved,
all dressed in white jeans,
cowered and hid in her tomb,
fearing,
the white light,
the flash of her pink ribbon-ed brim.
What had that smile had seen?
Eaten?
Gods survive.
Men want to.
If you are the children of gods,
what do you do?
remain a child,
remain a god,
youth and impermanence in the blowing sand,
grains of iron hot piling and settling, under her carefully white gloved leather hands-
Abruptly,she turned to look my way, startled,
across the years,
the temple,
from where they came,
the one that said-
disappeared into the sand.
The water from the river,
cool,
algae aimless in the flash of the sun,
dripping,
down my face.
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