Valley of the Kings

            I cross the threshold into the cool limestone burial shaft. A mustachioed Egyptian guard wearing a long grey robe eyes me as I pass. Light fills the first part of the passageway and dissolves into aquamarine shadows. I walk along the board ramp that slopes down to the sarcophagus of Seti II. Reliefs of human figures are carved into the chalky walls, many of which are rimmed coral and cobalt with residual paint. I can see ahead that the ramp drops into a steeper second slope that leads to the entrance of the tomb.  From afar, the entrance’s doorway glows apricot. For a moment, I see movement. Hypnotized, I walk slowly towards the coffin. My body is soaked with calm. The coolness spreads to my neck, arms, and cheeks, and suddenly I am six years old resting my face on my grandma’s marble table.

            Above the entrance are images of the Mehen snake coiled into a hundred figure eights. Its tail turns into a rope that is then pulled from Osiris’ mouth by strong young men. Time reverses and death rejuvenates. I slide my fingertips into the grooves of the pharaoh’s chiseled face. The Egyptian guard appears at my side. He tilts his flashlight to show me a mirror underneath the lid. Together we read the reflected glyphs. And then I realize I can’t stay here forever. Hesitantly, I walk back towards the sunlight.