A lady lotus blossom, freshly picked from the valley.
With her fragrance, I am intoxicated.
The air she breathes is most fortunate.
The mud she steps in becomes gold.
The rain that bathes her supple skin is holy water most blessed by Amon.
For I have seen within the bejeweled eyes of the lotus blossom, Hathor, the goddess of love.
Eyes that are now hiding sorrow.
Eyes that are now being kissed by the pharaoh.
Eyes not enough to be a queen’s but a mere concubine.
Eyes that are mine.
I will challenge the depths of the
Nile and wrestle with Leviathan in order to receive
one more scent of her.
I will bring the morning on my back so that my lady lotus blossom may open once more and praise Amon for the beauty he has anointed her.
Original poem, 2002