The Plight of Marduk, Pt. I

“Old Babylon
is in my dreams.
Bound by the salt-seas,
from west to east.
The old desert
lay between
those glimmering
mirage sheens.

“I will kneel here,
on the western
shore, where she will
appear once more.
When she comes, I
will be ready
to follow her,
and in death, sink
to the sea floor.

“Seasalt dragon,
hear me.
Rise up,
with your rage,
and fear me.
You are the sea,
Tiamat, and
I am the son of Enki.”

He waits to kill
the Creator,
bride of Apsu…
a silver ladle
of fresh water
soothes her anger.

He is the son,
the favorite
of Enki’s brood,
the pride of
of Enki’s making.

Tiamat rose,
like the waves,
a rage of throes,
crashing against
the rocks ashore.

She bore gleaming
pearls on her brow.
Her gown of kelp touched,
ran aground,
and dug furrows
in the sand where
young Marduk, dour,
frowned with great scorn.

“Mortal child,
sheath your blade,
for when saltwater
and blood mix,
only sorrow is made.
Enki’s anger lurks deep
in your veins,
where it tainted your blood.
You seek blood on the waves.”

Marduk was angered,
steadfast, but seething,
unwaivering, he
raised his chin high.

He pointed his
blade at the waves
and declared their
ending was nigh,
as they would break
against his blade,
Tiamat’s tears,
in death, would dry.

Tiamat watched
his advance,
with the slightest smirk,
squinting to hide

the gleam in her

©️ Obol, 2018-2019.

This is a refreshed favorite of mine from the old blog.

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