Suha

She sits in tarnished beauty, smiling wistful at the river, with a void all around Her

Children no longer play in the wild fields and clovers, leaving lilies at her feet Ladies do not sit and sigh, bathing in her blessed shade

Now all that remains are swaying branches, lifeless breezes the distant roar of an engine passing the highway that replaced Her sky

Her face once held a story, Her hands, a purpose Her body, a song But long gone are the careful artists Who carved Her stone pot (now resting empty in Her lap) Gone are the priests who knew her name and told the tale Gone are the humans who brought Her to life who marveled and adored in idolatry For who is a Goddess that nobody knows?