Her claw dipped, a jugular throbbed,
A throat slit, a man screams in agony.
Her teeth, white as the sun,
Now dyed with crimson,
The thunderous scarlet of sunrise.
Her growls shake, a village quakes,
A heart ripped, a child shrieks for mother.
Her teeth, dark with sanguine,
Now grind for more death,
The thunderous coldness of rage.
Her paws pad, never hurrying,
A door torn, a family cries for mercy,
Ra turns away, he does not hear,
The solar boat moves, unhearing to cries of fear.
The thunderous revenge against evil.
A scorch upon the land, the lioness stalks,
She roars, terrorising the desert,
She stampedes, the Nile quivers.
Ra watches, quiet, from his ark,
The Western Horizon approaches.
Death everywhere, the evil and innocent,
Side by side, those who turned,
And those still so loyal to Ra.
In his ark, the god quivers,
It is enough, Sekhmet has done well.
He calls to the lioness,
She refuses to pause, to listen to her father.
The Eye of Ra tears, gnaws, and rips flesh,
Every moment filled with ecstatic pleasure.
Night falls, the gods gather,
In Duat, urgently whisper,
They convene, they urge,
They advise, they command,
Pouring vats of beer into a pool,
Near where Sekhmet lay curled,
Her blood-stained jowls quiver in dreams unseen.
Deities retreat, their breaths abated,
In Duat, fretfully watching,
They convened, they urged,
They advised, they commanded,
How could they wait—it was so long.
Would Sekhmet see? Would she know?
Her purr of pleasure opened golden, heartless eyes.
A pink tongue licks blood-stained teeth,
Her eyes fixate on the ocean of beer.
Crouching, lapping with a lover's eagerness,
Her pelt quivers in excitement,
Such close blood!
She doesn't feel her head swimming,
Her heart beats languishedly,
Now her skull throbs as though split in two.
Sekhmet stumbles, tongue lolling,
The lioness falls ungainly, limbs entangled.
The gods breathe again.
Ra awaits, Sekhmet approaching,
Alert eyes met groggy, wine-hazed ones,
She stumbles to Ra's feet, lays her head on his lap,
She hardly feels his hand scratching her ears.
"My child, you have done well," Ra approves,
"But your days of killing have ended.
You are now a goddess endowing love and music.
Your name shall be Hathor."
