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The idol
They came under the shadow
of the huge Rock—
scratching with small tools they excised
the figure as if by Caesarean section,
the arms spread out in blessing
or exasperation. Look, they said,
we must do what we say
it says, but when they saw
the ripped umbilical cord their
senseless rage awakened. The Rock
looms so immense it is
hardly noticed, blood and
wounded stone. They dash
the newborn idol onto it again
and again but it will not break.
© Godfrey Rust 2021, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for permissions.
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