A Tribute to Neil Gaiman's American Gods

Shadow -
A life that turned inside out
Left behind, yet not left behind
He drank the mead, and bound himself
To see it through---
And learned why he was born
Lived by the lake's side
Walked on a backstage
Met a girl that
Believed in everything
(Nothing.)

Shadow -
He saw the battle brewing
And figured out who would win
He drank the mead, and bound himself
To see it through---

And he saw the tree on which
A god's son was sacrificed
Tasted Mabel's pasties
Met a cat that

Had more than amber eyes
(Much more.)


Shadow -
Child of the land that's not
The spring or river, but the delta
He drank the mead, and bound himself
To learn it all---

The land is a delta.
People were its river; people built
The deposit
Layer upon layer
Of silt; of tales
of song, of dance
and...
And of Them, who arrived
Unknown, unnoticed
Ones, twos, hordes carried
By the people who'd sought them
By the people they had sought
Ones, twos, hordes forgotten
By the ones who'd made them.

No adoration, nor worship, nor sacrifices anymore
Starved for love, they worked the streets
With their little threads in the tapestry:
"From sea to shining sea."
They worked the streets---
American Gods

New ones were made over time and let slip into the stream;
Fearing the oblivion, they worked the streets
With their little threads in the tapestry:
"From sea to shining sea."
They worked the streets---
American Gods

In the land that is the delta
They formed the layers of silt.


Shadow -
Coins flew through his fingers
Dreams flew through his mind
He drank the mead, and bound himself
To see it through---

And submitted to the hammer
And rode the thunderbird
And opened the trunk
Met a land that

He had thought he had known
(But had not.)

Met a land that

We had thought we had known
(But had not.)

How to thank Neil Gaiman? How to thank him for hours glued between the covers of one hardback, staring, laughing, gasping, thinking; his mastery of words and emotions so complete that he carries you through every footstep and drumbeat flawlessly?

I'm not a poetry-type person; yet the book was strong enough to tear the above review-tribute out of me within 24 hours of turning the last page. It goes without saying that this is a work in progress. If I ever set it to music (not that I've done that before, ever), I'll probably have to change it. I might make it rhyme more, too---but I wanted it to be out as it was born, as it were; naked and natural.