Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose*

[just mercedes]

Mens’ bodies, flexed,
were bound tightly, placed
in a canoe, a coffin, on a stage,
or in a tree in deep forest
or sacred site. After a year
attendants cleansed the bones:
oiled, painted with red ochre,
tied into a bundle and hidden
in a cave, among rocks, in
a hollow tree.

Even the strongest. Memory stores
strong horses pulling,
young bulls harnessed,
gelded boars’ tusk.

The Lycians, overpowered in battle,
under seige within their walls, sent
wives, slaves, children, and treasures
to the citadel, burned it down
then sallied forth against the enemy.
They all died, sword in hand.
No survivors.






* title - the more things change, the more they stay the same