In one of my more pensive moments a few months ago, I came to terms with my mortality. I jotted down, Not a God, in just a few minutes. I recently thought about it because it fits nicely with my grandchildren’s recent interest in mythology. Although Mercury is a Roman god, instead of Greek like the others, he seemed to fit the poem better.
NOT A GOD
by Mike Patrick
Mount Olympus knows not my tread.
Aphrodite has felt not my hand.
Eros is not the fruit of my loins.
Mercury moves not at my command.
I demand no sacrifice.
No laurel wreath adorns my hair.
No oracular words do I hand down;
Someone else must hear your prayer.
I’m not a God.
I’m a man.
Destined to live, to love, to die
Only as best I can.