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Incarnate < 21
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The idol
They come under the shadow of
the huge Rock. Scratching
with small tools they excise
the figure as by
Caesarean section, its arms
spread out in blessing
or exasperation. Look, they say
we must do what we say
it says, but the ripped umbilical cord
awakens their uncalmed rage. The
Rock looms immense and
barely noticed, blood and
water leaking from the
wounded stone. They dash
the newborn idol onto it again
and again but it will not break.
© Godfrey Rust 2021, godfrey@wordsout.co.uk. See here for permissions.
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