Is it only gods who cast
Their form onto stone
When their work is done?
Looking for rock art,
My companion said
I stood up too fast
After searching in vain
Under an overhang.
As I turned to continue
The search, the scaly bark
Of a tree sparkled
Like silver crystals,
The dry Savannah grasses
Glowed white like an
Over-exposed photograph.
The path between them led
To a gallery where a larger
Than life-sized Wandjina
Lay full length on the wall.
The touch of untold fingers
Revealed a gendered image.
From her head rose
A strange protuberance.
I had seen similar
In a distant dream:
heart pounding,
I had confronted
An unearthly feline.
Nothing since, until
An Inca figurine in an
Exhibition years later.
All remain unexplained.
Athena being born
From the head of Zeus?