Painting by Tony Green
I Do Not Need the Gods to Return
I do not need the gods to return.
I have seen the fragments.
Have weighed them in my hand,
one at a time in the heat.
One at a time, in the dry dirt.
Oregano, sage and thyme.
I don’t need Orpheus to sing.
I walk down the esplanade at night.
I pass one loud bar after the other.
On the left the sea,
bigger and stronger after dark.
Orpheus put down his lyre
centuries ago. Who knows what the women
believe now that they are not guarded.
Who can tell if it is easier now.
The wide fig trees shade me either way.
It has been suggested that we should
go back to the source.
The rain and fire that gave birth
to all of it. The paintings on jars.
Burnt things, and Aphrodite
so much like a queen.
The cracking of almonds,
the plowing of the fields.
The broken libation cup unbroken.
I don’t need the old gods to be believed.
No Orpheus to sing again.
Linda Gregg
Posted over on Agenda Poetry
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