Urban Goddess

For centuries the men I knew, knew Christ or naught.
Alas, so few were true believers; none who sought
Communion with older gods, or dared to tread
Upon the sods of ancient paths where ivy threads.
I dwelt alone, wild-suckled in an urban home,
And walked the grass and leaves despoiled by soot,
And trod barefoot among deaf drones who could not see
Reality. And still I waited, solitary.

Can Aphrodite be, unrecognised, inside a grocery store?
Or buying petrol, or
Making the tea?
Oh yes – I am, though hidden from your gaze.
And even those who spend their days
And nights in search of me,
Pass over what they seek as though afraid, for they are weak
And dumb to truth, preferring fantasy.

Men's guilts & fears leave them purblind –
They think they know what they should find,
But when it comes in other kind
Than that they search for, let it pass
Their mind can't grasp its truth – for they want more.
But I am here, for those who see: I'll set you free;
I'll open wide the door.

Come to me, Pan, in shape of man;
Open your eyes to seek my guise
And see me as I am.

©Alexa Duir 2001

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