The writhing man lay in pain,
His back against the sandy earth
Feeling the residual warmth of past middays
And the golden glow of the sandstone pyramid
And the pain spearing his side.

While hauling granite blocks:
Other workers shouted warnings – Watch out!
As the rope snapped and the log shot backward
He sidestepped – but too late:
Tried to twist away, but sun-blind, was struck

Blood seeps out and into the sand
And the blue sky calls to him
His duty to the god-kings fulfilled, his spirit passes
And races heavenward along Ra’s sky-pillars
As the clouds resolve to eagle-images: Osiris
Beckoning him home


About Peter Bates

I'm a young guy in Cape Town, studying English and History, and teaching at high school level. I love to write and to work in theatre, both on and behind the stage. View all posts by Peter Bates

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