Poetry

Pyramids

I see a tiny, blue pyramid in a window -  

from the tiny to the Great Pyramid in Egypt. 

With my mad-stone-touching group we are 

to spend an hour alone in the King’s chamber. 

We crawl up the steep airless passage and one 

by one, lie inside the red granite sarcophagus –

The doorway betweenthis world and the next, 

we are told. Chilled, I lie inside the sarcophagus and 

stare at the darkness. I wait. Nothing. 

Not even a glimpse of the high mysteries, 

just trembling knees. 

 

Then the strenuous crawl down 

the vertical suffocating passage. 

Outside, the evening air tastes delicious. 

 

Copyright © 2018 Azima Melita Kolin