We come to the island first.
We think it possible and perfect,
a fort of such esteem, we will live here
like Egyptians, the pharaoh hovering
over a pyramid so big it could just be
the moon rising across the desert..
We grow in miniature.
We are powerful.
We are overfull with the bones and souls
which are working to transform
the sense the pharaohs have
of what a heaven is.
Whereas we pray;
whereas we are wed to thee;
my dark father, so that
our children might pass through
their life un-enslaved;
whereas we prevail; whereas
we hope that none
die in vain—
that none die at all.
That no one dies, not even Pharaoh—
that His blood will not stain this sand,
that His land lies before Him still.