You wanted what you have now
So much. No, too much
You were so short of height
In the esteem of the gods
On the platform of servility, you stood
You were not tall enough still
You tiptoed then pushed yourself up
Like a serpent, you stretched your body
Until your whispers of platitudes
Reached the ears of the gods
With the tongue of a sycophant
You asked to kiss their hands
On their doorstep, you shed off
Your clothes
You whored your way
To the inner circles of Mount Olympus
You got them- the paper and pen
A table and a swivel chair
You learned to sign your name
In blood. Not yours
You walked above the ground
One hand holding high a trident
Anyone who saw it had to bow
Everyone saw it
Everyone who did not bow
Had to face your Olympian wrath
Occasionally, you would dine
With the gods and goddesses
On Mount Olympus
Breathing the air they breathe
You thought you became
One of them. Immortal.
Eternity-bound
That was when
You started dying
You are dying
Your feet can no longer take you
To the barren ricefields
That kept you alive
When the pull of death was strong
Or the slums which gave you a home
When the affluent doors were closed
You are blind; you no longer see
Shame in the starvation of many
Amidst the opulence of a few
You are deaf; you hear obedience
From the silence of the poor
Deaf to the slander and indictment
Pronounced by their grumbling hunger
You lost your hands; you can no longer
Embrace your brothers and sisters
Shivering in the cold
And what happened to your tongue?
You were fluent in justice
You coopted its lexicon
To mask your evil ways
Now, among mortals, you speak
Only the language of tyrants
Among gods, the language of slaves
You lost your mind; you think power
Is oppression over submission
An elephant over a hapless ant
An entitlement of wealth
To steal from hunger
You lost your heart
You sow fear rather than reap love
You set foot on Mt Olympus
You are now immortal. And
You are dying
You are. Dying.
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