Old Gods

Those old gods were bad gods but they were our gods just the same.
They were good enough to allow the crops to come in, they were good enough to let them grow.
Their gifts were bountiful but their wrath was stern.
They allowed us a harvest the one year, brought locusts the next.
They were god enough to bestow and god enough to turn angry and deprive.
Without malice they starved and drowned and smote the innocent.
Offerings were made to placate them.
These were accepted and expected, though often rejected and ignored.
These were not your predictable gods.
But they were our gods.

Just the same, had they accepted our petitions and granted our prayers,
bestowing bounty in plenty upon the lot of us,
wouldn't we recall fondly the doing without? The going about without?
Wouldn't we miss drawing down, battening hatches, digging for or bailing water?
Shouldn't we light a candle for them now?