A Poem About a Dead God
“Woe to the bloody city!” they proclaim,
With their hearts full of prejudice and rage.
They turn to the city of wealth and fame:
Nineveh — protected by the red-god in old-age.
Feeble, the once-great observes in sorrow,
As he who purifies with fire and blood -
Mimics his battle-cry, performs his show -
In a parade of flame, unabated by Tigris’ flood.
And so Nahum’s prophecy takes the walls,
Yahweh upheld, the lion-god is now lost.
His people cry out as their city falls:
“Where were you Lord, when your gate was crossed?”
He replies, “Children, I have been replaced,
My gate stands, but my name has been disgraced.”