King

The daughter of the pharaoh is a stillborn.

I watch the priests drop flowers and liquids on my daughter’s doll. Smoke flows up my nostrils, making this even more unbearable, but it is necessary. My child’s time to go to the Gods has come. I have failed her and I have failed my people. I have even failed my queen who was unable to preserve her life.

My wife, dressed in her finest clothes, let tears of sorrow drop down to her lap while she squeezed my hand. We didn’t look at each other. It was impossible. How can you look at the mother or father of the child that passed away so suddenly? Impossible.

I swallow air in my dry mouth. How did this happen? The wrapped doll that symbolizes my child lays on a small wooden platform. I stare at it with such passion and hatred that the tears won’t come. They can’t come. I won’t let them because this didn’t happen. This is a sign from the Gods that it is in the future if I fail. I repeat this in my head thousands of times, wishing it true.

The priests continue on with their ceremony and my queen takes a deep breath, trying to regain her stature only to fail miserably. I can’t look anymore. I don’t let go of her hand, but I look at the hieroglyphs mocking us on the walls.

I find the room suffocating. Everything and everyone in the room desperate to suck the life out of the grieving parents of the infant. My heir to the throne lost without another sound. My child that I praised for only days before, that I cherished with all of my power, will never be alive in my arms. She will never see day on the land that could have been hers.

My toes sent shockwaves up my legs, bringing me out of my thoughts. I wouldn’t let this take over me. Neither my foot nor my stillborn daughter. The land may be trying to take me down, but it won’t conquer. The Gods may be trying to take me down, but they won’t succeed. I won’t let them. I have to survive for my child and my future children. I have to survive for my grieving wife beside me.  

I damn myself if I have another child to pass away. It will be a sign from the Gods that I am incapable of being pharaoh.

After the ceremony, I grab my staff and walk with my queen to our chambers. 

Author's Note

Original photograph from Supreme Council of Antiquities, Egypt, and National Geographic Society, 2005