Moonchild

My name is Aahmer, but my friends call me Osiris. I am a child of the moon. I dream of the future. I think about the future. How long will it last? Will I and my family be forgotten? Will our names live on? My great uncle, my grand-father’s brother, was indeed great. Surely his legacy, his achievements, will last and last. He was King Djoser, and it was to honour his memory that the earliest pyramid was built at Saqqara. I am proud to belong to his family. An artist in the Court painted my portrait last week to celebrate my birthday. But how long will the painting last? One moon, one hundred moons, three thousand moons? If you see it, think of me. I sat still for many hours as the pigments were ground. My head was shaved in the manner appropriate for a member of such an exalted family. I was dressed in my finest clothes.

I believe in the future. I dream that one day, when the moon is full, someone, somewhere, will look at my portrait and say ‘Look at this girl. Is she not beautiful?’