Margaret Atwood - Sekhmet the Lion-headed Goddess of War lyrics

Sekhmet, the Lion headed Goddess of War

He was the sort of man
Who wouldn't hurt a fly
Many flies are now alive while he is not
He was not my patron
He preferred full granaries, I battle
My roar meant slaughter
Yet here we are together in the same museum
That's not what I see, though, the fitful
Crowds of staring children
Learning the lesson of multi-
Cultural obliteration, sic transit and so on
I see the temple where I was born
Or built, where I held power
I see the desert beyond
Where the hot conical tombs, that look
From a distance, frankly, like dunces' hats
Hide my jokes: the dried-out flesh
And bones, the wooden boats
In which the dead sail endlessly
In no direction

What did you expect from gods
With animal heads?
Though come to think of it
The ones made later, who were fully human
Were not such good news either
Favour me and give me riches
Destroy my enemies that seems to be the gist
Oh, yes: And save me from death
In return we're given blood
And bread, flowers and prayer
And lip service

Maybe there's something in all of this
I missed but, if it's selfless
Love you're looking for
You've got the wrong goddess
I just sit where I'm put, composed
Of stone and wishful thinking:
That the deity who kills for pleasure
Will also heal
That in the midst of your nightmare
The final one, a kind lion
Will come with bandages in her mouth
And the soft body of a woman
And lick you clean of fever
And pick your soul up gently by
The nape of the neck
And caress you into darkness and paradise