THE LION OF KNIDOS

Near one corner of the British Museum’s

Great Court – the largest, roofed, public square

in Europe – the Lion reclines on a plinth.

It was stolen, a couple of years

after the Crimean War, from a ruined

tomb in Turkey. Its limestone body

had once been adorned with marble, its empty

eye sockets with glass to glint in sunlight

and glow in moonlight. Whether because

its pockmarked flanks seem sad or its eyeless face

appears benign visitors are keen to pose

for photos with the beast as backdrop.

 

I sit and watch. Three Buddhist monks, holding

their museum bags, snap each other.

Meanwhile, running deftly through the visitors,

my granddaughter returns delighted

from the many spoils of Ancient Egypt.

 

As natural light morphs into electric

the youngest monk comes back to take a selfie.

He turns and twists to angle his iPhone –

and immortalise the great blind head that now

looks both wise and simple.

 

 

 

 

 

British Museum Ancient EgyptBuddhistCrimean WariPhonethe Great CourtThe Lion of KnidosTurkey