This poem explores existential themes of death, the afterlife, and one's legacy. It references an ancient Egyptian tradition where a person's heart is weighed against a feather at death to determine their fate. The speaker wonders what parts of themselves will endure after death - will their truth and spirit live on, represented by an ostrich plume? Or will their identity be reconfigured or forgotten, with only their sins remembered at the weighing of their soul? In the end, the speaker questions what meaning their own life held for them.
This poem explores existential themes of death, the afterlife, and one's legacy. It references an ancient Egyptian tradition where a person's heart is weighed against a feather at death to determine their fate. The speaker wonders what parts of themselves will endure after death - will their truth and spirit live on, represented by an ostrich plume? Or will their identity be reconfigured or forgotten, with only their sins remembered at the weighing of their soul? In the end, the speaker questions what meaning their own life held for them.
This poem explores existential themes of death, the afterlife, and one's legacy. It references an ancient Egyptian tradition where a person's heart is weighed against a feather at death to determine their fate. The speaker wonders what parts of themselves will endure after death - will their truth and spirit live on, represented by an ostrich plume? Or will their identity be reconfigured or forgotten, with only their sins remembered at the weighing of their soul? In the end, the speaker questions what meaning their own life held for them.
Or do we each draw a particular deaththe spider web trembling in the window.
How my cartouche will read: small yellow boat; bird; bird. When I die what part of me will become light as truth, a single ostrich plume? & the spider web trembling in the window: each spun cell a portal something to live through. Let me believe in it allinfinity, pain, & the things we see in mirrors in dark rooms at night, the moon hermetic & shifting. Will there be a reconfiguration? Will there be a papering over of names? At the weighing of the soul, the heart is placed on a balance & everything is gleaned in profile, our stories painted on reeds. So much wrong. Small yellow boat; bird; bird. & behind the ibis-headed recorder, the Devourer. Scribe, what did I mean to me?