Servitors of the highest God
On the plain of Dura
a twenty-seven meter high
golden statue stand,
that people can see for miles far
and the esteemed people,
commanders and princes
and the king is there
with a big crowd
and almost everybody that serves him.
In different languages it is announced
that everybody must fall down,
have got to pray to it
when the music instruments play
and we see the king
sitting boldly on his throne
and the people are excited,
it’s a great festival
and suddenly there is silence,
in the big fire oven
flames shoot up brightly
and expectation is written on faces.
All at once the sound rises
of horn, zither, flute, lute
harp and bagpipes
and all kinds of instruments.
Around us the crowds of people bend down
onto the earth and the three of us stand
while a light winds is pulling on our cloaks
and I lift my hand
to shade the sun from shining in my eyes
while the music is inundating
and everybody can hear the music
and friends shout in fear to us:
“Bend! Bend down!
Bend before the master and lord! ”
Armed soldier take us
right up to king Nebuchadnezzar
and it’s clear that he is raging
and indignantly he gets up from his throne
and walks right up to us
and in anger he wants to know
if we are impudent
to disobey his commands?
[...] Read more
poem by Gert Strydom
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