Mortal Gods Poem by Tony Adah

They wore diadems that men's hands
Did craft for their Royal heads
They sat on thrones
That felt like there was no end
And men as subjects prostrated
Before the sculpture of their hands
Mortal gods
They sit tight like a boulder slab
Unable to move
Took every water from the world
Like the ocean that never runs dry
They laugh when we cried
But we die at last with them
Their thrones linger but the tenures
Wane like a piece of camphor in
Our closet,
Every soldier comes and goes
But the barracks remains.