The Tomb of Nefertiti

Rouged in shattered perfection,

It’s not easy looking so glorious,

so divine.

Chemicals and minerals

have long turned her black shell, blue.

Enough polish will make Kemetic flesh

glow like the edge of a knife,

and still not shimmer like the stars.

What others mistake for perfection,

is the struggle to portray

such luxurious resplendence.

Yet all it does is open the shade

to reveal a woman on display;

her windows suspended, beneath the red light.

Everyone is buying, but willing to spend so little.


Pampered, powdered, sealed in layers of latex finish

echo the resounding solitude

of skin, dressed and perfumed,

only to be wrapped in linens

and sealed in stone.

Children we are,

Children of the dark,

and have succumbed to the obsessions of the flesh,

in the shortest age,

in our Kali Yuga,

gasping for the immortal breath,

reaching for ways to cheat the white-sickled hand

from its share,

Clinging to the nubile perfections and illusions

of Prospero’s masquerade.


Published by: Katie Anderson

Katie Anderson is a priestess, mentor, researcher, writer, and artist. She writes essays, poetry, and fiction that intersect history, philosophy, and spirituality. Previous publications include Lilith: Dark Feminine Archetype. She is currently preparing her first book, When Above for self-publication. She lives with her husband and son in Troy, Missouri.

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