Left Behind: The Crooked Boy
The famed steps dodged the eye, beneath a stairway
To the plain room
Where he lay
Linen-covered from slim ankles to desiccated neck.
Neat, a cadaver, poised for inspection.
The famed baboons’ glare eyed a stone sarcophagus
In an adjoining room,
Where he once lay
Hidden deep inside glorious boxes of gold.
Neat, so calm, poised for resurrection.
The famed visage stirred my eye’s fascination
In a sultry room
Where he now reclined:
Feet uncovered, toes jutting from insteps,
Uneven, like cactuses, deformed on inspection.
The famed youth’s eyes belied their pain
In that quiet room,
Where emaciated, he reclined
And my tear for a legendary King
Trickled, in awe and consummate dejection…
Pete Ray
On seeing the mummified remains of the
Pharaoh Tutankhamun.
Wonderful moment…
The Mask…
The boy stared,
Had lost his humanity
But dared betrayal
And yet he had long vanished…
His death-mask’s brilliance,
Stylised certainly,
Traumatised me nevertheless
And it was the beauty,
Stark, sleek and glistening
Which exuded a calm resilience…
Pete Ray
Tutankhamun’s wondrous mask in Cairo’s Museum…
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