Jack and I were sharing a reading
\nabout ancient Egypt.
\nHe would read
\nand I would read,
\nof desert, pyramids
\nand the great artery of Africa,
\nthe Nile,
\nas rain pattered on the window
\nbehind us.<\/p>\n
A storm was moving in
\nto the lilt of our voices.
\nThen a tapping on the glass,
\nthe staccato of hail
\nlike stones thrown from the darkness.
\nA violence shuddered at the door.<\/p>\n
To the basement, Jack, I ordered,
\nand stepping to Mark\u2019s crib
\nI handed him to his mother,
\nand the family retreated
\nto the basement,
\nas the house resounded
\nfrom the blows outside,
\na storm unlike October.<\/p>\n
We descended to our pyramid
\ninside the earth.
\nWhat the Egyptians understood
\nof life and death.
\nThe building of a sanctuary
\nfor the soul.
\nA buttress against the sands
\nof time,
\nthe uncertainty of the flood,
\nthe water of life
\nthat could drown them,
\njust as well.
\nThe sky that brings so much peace.<\/p>\n
Is that the mother of our hearts
\npounding on the window,
\nher words lashing with lightning
\nas we gather the treasure
\nof our lives,
\nin a sarcophagus of life
\nprotected from above?<\/p>\n
Jack had asked
\nwhat ancient meant,
\nand I said,
\nwhat happened so long ago
\nthat we almost forget
\nit happened.
\nAnd to myself I said,
\ntonight, the mother sky reminds us
\nhow fragile pyramids are.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Jack and I were sharing a reading about ancient Egypt. He would read and I would read, of desert, pyramids and the great artery of…<\/p>\n