Before We Brought Them Down
Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image ~ Exodus 20:4
When gods become mere figures, they are not
Gods anymore. They slip to being oil
On canvas, words on pages, poems caught
In scrolls and codexes. Gods used to roil
Around in blackness, lava underground,
Like Vulcan with his ever saddened wives.
The beauty of these gods was so profound
Because we could not see them. All their lives
Were secret in the depths or heights of brains,
Imagined much imperfectly and left
To be unrealized. They settled stains
Inside their worshipper who felt their heft.
Their distance was as crucial as a bolt
Of lightning to a tree. They gave a jolt.