Small Gods

SMALL GODS

They stand in the corners,
forlorn,
almost forgotten,
waiting on someone,
anyone,
to remember their names.

Their voices,
which boomed like thunder,
once upon a time,
are now whispers.

You have to strain
to hear them,
in the rustle of leaves,
in the fall of rain.

Diminished and dim,
the Small Gods wait,
hoping and praying
for someone,
anyone,
to remember them,
to invoke them.

And each year,
there are fewer of them.
Their voices failing,
their glory fading,
as they fall
into obscurity.

The Small Gods wait,
forlorn,
almost forgotten,
praying that someone,
anyone,
will remember their names.