Does It Matter to the Mummy? ... A Poem

Does it matter to the mummy lying ancient in the crypt?

If potentate of power, prince of Athens, Egypt, Sparta;

barbaric lord of feudal state; cutpurse, weaver, goat-skinned saint?

Does it matter to the mummy lying ancient in the crypt?

Whether noble in a tomb, or bones ignored in disarray,

nether-buried in the sediment, strata deep from sight?

Does it matter to the mummy lying ancient in the crypt?

Husk of locust etched on stone, in briny, seeping silt and lime;

giant perch and fossiled fern; pelvis, skull in layered time?

Does it matter to the mummy lying ancient in the crypt?

Bright with crystal, glass and stone; dark, striate earth, alive with bone,

indifferent to the sound, eons lifeless down, tune of grinning kind

from worlds of light, fires of sun and night, the cunning stars,

careening with the speed of god, leaving everyone behind?

Copyright by Don Gray