Totem Warning

Totemic metal marked the land
as the graveyard of gods,
a discarded religion, it lay,
as so many others, in ruined temples,
carpeted with the carcasses
of offerings, a rotting mess
from days of ore, mined,
then melded in factories,
cathedrals of engineering
whose doors, too, had closed
on the faithful.

The pangs of labour were felt by many
as the new world was born,
contractions leading to an afterbirth of blue,
a gentle canopy which made no distinction
between those who lived beneath it.

A place of pilgrimage, it drew visitors,
those who cast envious eyes at the ‘haves’,
untouched by hardship, whilst they
were left behind with only memories.
The blue made no distinction
but the divide had been made,
and the totem became a warning
of storm clouds on the horizon

and already they rumble.