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Sigiriya, 1889

December 3, 2016

As the eagle passed me by

I looked back, and tasted fear

At seeing the tree tops far below

But still I climbed, with the rope

Until I glimpsed an uneven floor

My knees were scraped, my whole body shaking

As I dragged myself up to stand

Far below me the white man called my name

His voice lost in the whistling wind.

I turned to the wall and saw

What no man for centuries had seen,

Many goddesses filled the walls

Their colours still fresh and glowing.

What long-dead hand had painted them?

 

Who last stood on this floor?

A snake slid past; the only one

On whom the goddesses smiled.

 

I looked down the rock.

Yes, Mr. Alick1, there is something here.

 

 

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