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Part One of the Archaeologist "Shall I Compare Thee to a Backfill Pile?"
April 27, 2000
by Rose Baldwin

Faithful scholar of the sands
Digging to reveal the past
Here the sun has scorched your hands
Yet you hope the day will last

In the hotness of the sun
The laymen hope their sweatty work is done
Yet it is noon
It is not permitted yet to swoon

Yet in your laborous work, you find a new excitement
A bit of bone
A carven stone
It is here you find contentment

Osiris and Isis

Isis was a goddess of the Nile's shore
She was married to her brother
And one son did she bore

Isis and Osiris reigned long ago
They taught them how to build and how to row
Farming was a trick Osiris taught
Which lead to a more sophisticated thought

Yet to such a king there was a darkness
A deadly foe, named Seth
He walked with starkness
He held deceit in his gaze

He murdered Osiris,
In a casket made of cedar
Blood dripped from a knife
An insane leader

A Hitler of the past
But his reign did not last

Oh Mighty Horus
Your father is in the west
Yet who will determine the best?

The Ennead with its entourage of gods
Stood before all,
Looking to stall a lethal confrontation
But it was too late, for this small confederation

Horus and Seth fought by the shore
Driving spear or racing boat
Fighting fear, hunting wild boar
It was vicious, nothing to gloat

Then in one desperate duel
Seth was diminished by a fatal stroke
He had finally croaked

Horus now a mighty king
Looks about at everything
He commands as a godly king
Ruler of everything

People look to the stars
Gaze up and see afar
There you can see
Osiris and Isis in a galactic eternity

Back to Poetry

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© 2000 by the Archaeological Institute of America
archive.archaeology.org/online/features/poetry/baldwin.html

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