what I have to say is old
standing in a new place
risen over temples
to broken gods we don’t know
but what is stone waits
under sand blown through it
for four thousand years
the names whispered in the dark
by children
are written here
between the two rivers
the monsters under the bed
are real, and named
through cuneiform pressed into clay
in language I don’t speak
but know inside my blood
but my God is older
than these
Susan Daniels Poetry 
My God brings sticky buns and champers to parties!! She’s ACE!
(sorry, I’ve been too damn serious lately!!)
LOL, she sounds nicer than mine, who refuses to use the raspberry swirl roll recipe I e-mailed Him. 😉 love your sense of humor!
‘But my God is older’. what a a classic line.
Thanks, Celestine. All this frolicking I am doing with Mesopotamian gods made me think I need to remind myself of who the real one is 😉
Of course. 🙂
🙂
Goosebumps.
Aw, thanks, Julie. Can I get you to read this and tell me what you think?
Aah…more stones and dust…and wind…and….whwhwhissssspersssss……
🙂 love your comment!