IRREVERSIBLE MAGIC: (FROM ISIS TO OSIRIS, AS HE RATTLED IN HIS COFFIN, THIRTY-THREE SECONDS FROM RISING)

isis and osiris

I give you another poem based on the epic love story of Isis and Osiris, a story which is ultimately (in my mind) a story of the victory of the gods of love over the gods of greed.

Recap: The goddess and god Isis and Osiris, perfect brother and sister souls, rule Egypt with love, beauty, and grace. The graceless, greedy, ugly Set grows jealous and tricks Osiris into climbing into a golden coffin, promising Osiris that if the coffin fits his body, he can have the gold. Instead, when Osiris is inside, Set slams the lid shut and suffocates him. Afterward, the loveless, pitiful Set chops Osiris into pieces. That would be the end of the story if not for Isis.

Possessed by a profound love for Osiris, Isis sacrifices everything she has and many, many years to gather her beloved’s body and reconstruct it, after which she resurrects him.

I think often of that gorgeous love. We look at Egyptian myth and think of it as spooky and dark, but as I’ve delved into it, I have found it to be a gorgeous love story. How much must have Isis loved her Osiris to look for him so long? How potent must her love have been to possess the power to resurrect him from the dead? What kept her looking for him during all those long years, when she could have stopped along the way, taken another lover, become a different kind of queen?

Love. Love made her strong. Here is a poem from Isis to her beloved.

IRREVERSIBLE MAGIC: (FROM ISIS TO OSIRIS, AS HE RATTLED IN HIS COFFIN, THIRTY-THREE SECONDS FROM RISING)

At twilight, in the eyes of all the gods that matter, plummeting sun and blossoming moon, trickster stars, I sewed your name to my bones.

At dawn, when spirits made puppets of birds, abducting feathered throats, hijacking songs, I lit a candle, melted your marrow into mine.

I did not say, “‘Til death do us part.” I said there would be no parting.

And so this morning, after storm came and hurricane roared, hungry to rip your name from my lips, banish you from my bones forever, I woke weary but whole, your face still carved on my skull, knowing I would un-be yours the day I undid my own bones, scraped my marrow into a bin and dumped it into the sea.

We

youmeyoumeyoumeyoume

are one.

That misshapen brujah poured her words through your lips, and so what? Her lies were not stitched to your eyes the way my name was when you looked at me that night and said not, “I do” but, “I did before the boiling earth gave birth to life.” And so that grasping hellhound chains you, keeps you from me (as if that were possible), and so what? We married not with our mouths but with our blood. And so the un-goddess’s henchmen hunt me, and what is that to me? They can cut my head from my body.  They can’t cut your name from my bones.

Pity her.

She can burn my love letters, make her haggard face into an ornament, hang it from every branch of your tree. She can brandish her hatred, drop her lies in your mouth. She cannot make you un-love me.

Pity her.

She is a blind, soulless crow, shitting incessantly, pecking desperately after shiny, worthless things.

Pity her.

Her bones are made of mud. Already they melt in the rain, rusting, and if she let you go, what would she be?

Pity her.

When she leaves this world there will be nothing left but sludge, no love to make her immortal. A desk full of contracts, dried out deeds, impotent seeds she thought might grow into something to make her worth noting.

As if ownership every had anything to do with love.

As if a fist can keep the wind.

We

youmeyoumeyoumeyoume

are one.

And so tonight I lie naked, my swelling belly giving birth to moons, to visions of you, to lesser gods, to love in its purest form. Undiluted. Acidic. It bathes me, bites me, burns my skin until every pore gushes your blood.

Beloved, I sacrificed myself whole on your altar eons ago. Would be wooers come and go.  “No,” I whisper.  “No. Leave me. I’ll lie here on this stone forever waiting for him to find me, and if death comes first, I’ll fly to him the moment my last breath leaves my lips.”

Beloved, beloved, beloved, look for me in clouds, in rainbows, in the whipping sails of passing ships.

Two thousand years from now, they’ll find my bones bleached and cold on this ivy licked altar, still inscribed with your name.

And so the storm came.

And so we stood strong.

And so the storm came.

And so we stood strong.

And so the storm came.

And so we stood strong .

Pity her.

Love lives long after greed is gone.

We

youmeyoumeyoumeyoume

are one.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s