Traboules

Dedicated to Sr∴ Lilith

A half a world away you stand,
erected tall on Anáhuac land.
From tens of marble stones you're built;
An eagle solemnly nests at your hilt.
The flaming sword casts down thine grace,
manifesting where'er your feet do place.

I built my own, ignorant and far,
from sandstone red and fixed in tar.
The turret, my lion guards with pride-
from e'er a friend and e'er a bride.
Up and up the steps I go,
Alone I build - Yea! Alone I know.

The towers dure, apart, unknowing-
of golden thread our souls are pulling.
Twist, weave, and bind nine knots;
our subtle bodies dancing lives forgot.
Kingdom's norms took charge and saw battle,
'til priests of Bacchus slew the spring cattle.

Hathor did laugh, - Nay! Hathor did weep,
for traboules would glow in the deep of our sleep.
So slowly each night, and alley by lane,
lights sure filled our shared pathways in plain.
By moon we dream, and by sun we're amazed-
that our towers stand far but our bodies still graze.